• Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    In Another Set Of Chances I’d Take The Ones I’ve Missed

    I used to write in riddles, and I used to write in rhymes; my body ached to write the words, the prose is what kept me alive. I write into the dark veil of the night, and in another set of chances, I’d take the ones I’ve missed. All the times in which I spoke into the silence, and whenever I do it seems I don’t speak, except to cry out and wait for an answer. I came into this world alone, marked in constellation, and when all else is gone, I will still be here. There’s a ceiling in the darkness, I am but a lifeless face that you’ll…

  • Writing

    These Things Will Never Change For Us At All

    Ever since childhood, there were always a handful of places I considered magical and I always dreamed that these places would always be there, if not for all time, then at the very least, for all of my life. An unexpected course of recent events has suddenly forced me to replace my lifelong dreams with less marvelous ones for which I must dream instead. Realizing finally that no matter what, these things will never change for us at all. Childhood heroes, people I thought were my friends, and all the things for which I held in such firm belief to be true, though, in the end, I’ve come to realize…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    I’m Going Through Changes

    Day breaks, the lost girl inside wakes, the birds sing, the wind blows through the trees, and the angels sigh. My mornings in Vermont begin early with the rising sun, my days often occupied with my own pursuits of untamed introspection as I try to unravel the mysteries of life, followed by early nightfall to hang the stars and moon upon, and until I see another day as the sun rises, I am feathered by the moonlight. The promise of another day on the horizon guarantees that the days ahead will never change for me at all. Introspection is my muse, my preoccupation, my heartbreak. I awoke on this cold…

  • Writing

    I Used To Worry About Rain

    I awoke at 5 AM suddenly on this cold November morning; my feeble attempts to remain asleep were futile as whenever I wake from a restful night’s sleep, my mind begins racing and always will. I realize now that after a lifetime of feeling like an outsider who views life as if looking through a large plate of seemingly impenetrable glass. I realize now that my entire life, up until now, I did not know I was lost, and even if I knew that indeed I was lost, I never could have known to what extent that I was lost. The tears I shed were a warning sign often ignored,…

  • Writing

    A Week At Camp

    My dream of returning to the summer camp where I spent the summers of my childhood was finally granted.  My plans were made suddenly, on a whim in fact, though taking this rare opportunity to return to this place I have always considered to be magical has helped me to realize just how truly lost I was. I stood in the middle of one of the large open athletic fields, all alone and listened to the sounds of nature; the singing birds, the wind blowing gently through the trees, surrounded by my own thoughts, and because it is natures poetry, forever shrouded in mystery. I walked up to the door…

  • Writing

    The Changes That I Need

    With the societal changes brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic, I have started to realize what is most important, but perhaps most importantly, I have made note of how this pandemic has changed me personally, and in almost concurrent fashion, I make the changes that I need. It has been a difficult and trying time during the pandemic. I thought about keeping a daily journal simply to document the spread, though quickly abandoned the idea as there is an enormous amount of press coverage already, and outside of the daily news updates, every single day seems identical to the one before. These days are seemingly unprecedented, historic perhaps, and unlike…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    It Came Without Warning

    The wreckage of my past is the war that’s never won. Often times I think about all the things that were said to me so many years ago; I would always listen to the negativity, silently as if I were laying down in the wake of someone else’s incompetence or insecurities, my elders and a handful of those my parents entrusted with my care having labeled me as difficult simply because I was intelligent, and quiet. When I was a child, I was always passive, reserved, and yet completely incapable of truly standing up for myself. Telling people how I really felt at the time, expressing my emotions, and finding…

  • Writing

    Sometimes, I Don’t Know

    Recently someone asked me if I had always taken pictures and written notes throughout my life, or if this was simply started in adulthood. For many years, during my childhood especially, I experienced so many unbelievable and amazing things, the vast majority of which were not documented or recorded in any way.  The details were simply lost, only to exist in my mind as inconsequential bits and pieces of memories that, as the years go by, fade away slowly their nostalgic value ever increasing, though never to return again. My father left behind a large cardboard box in the attic when he passed away.  The box was unmarked, though completely…