journal entry
-
You carried wounds you never asked for,shadows that were never yours to hold.Yet, when it was your turn,you chose to fight instead of fold. No one showed you how to heal,yet you learned,through trial, through error,through nights you thought you’d break.Still, you rose. The weight of silence pressed against your throat,but you spoke.The echoes of…
-
“He fell for her so hard he forgot where he parked his spine—last I checked, she’s still driving it around town.”— Ring Lardner Oh, man, haven’t we all been there? You meet someone, and suddenly you’re convinced they’re the whole damn universe—stars, planets, cat’s meow, the works. You hurl yourself into it head over heels,…
-
that love endures, even when you don’t tend to it as closely as you should The last thing I’ve learned—truly learned, in a way that settles into your bones and rearranges the way you see the world—came to me just last night, over a quiet dinner with my sister. It was one of those moments…
-
What’s the one question I hate being asked? The last one I just answered. Seriously—were you even listening? I just laid it all out, and here we are again, round two. As a business owner, I’m used to fielding questions—nonstop, all day, every day. The buck, the puck, the rubber duck, whatever you’re tossing my…
-
“The snow fell soft as memory, blanketing the world outside, while the fire within whispered her name—Jacklyn, the spark that never fades.” The last-minute bustle had swept through town like a fevered wind. Shelves at the local grocery stood barren, picked clean by hands clutching canned goods and bread. Firewood was hauled indoors in armloads,…
-
“In the beginning”—nope, already claimed. All the golden ones are, nabbed by the greats who either slaved over them or tossed them out like they were born to it: “Mother died today,” “Call me Ishmael,” whatever sticks in your craw. Me, I’m not so slick. Life doesn’t always deal you a killer first sentence, especially…
-
I hit a dead end today. No sirens, no flashing lights—just a flat, unblinking fact. The road stopped, and so did I. You get to a dead end one of two ways. Sometimes you see it coming, the signs piling up like cracked pavement, and you still drive toward it, half-curious, half-resigned. Other times it…
-
I embarked on ritualistic quests—reading Russian short novels in the twilight,playing timed chess as minutes slipped like sand,fasting to one humble meal a day,drinking bitter espresso to puncture the haze,smoking in the quiet solitude of dusk,and pickling myself in vodka’s icy embrace,laboring until every morning,my limbs begged gentle guidancejust to stir into motion. In that…
-
Three Objects I Couldn’t Live Without At first, my mind jumped to the obvious: faith, love, hope—the big three. And of course, loved ones. But since those aren’t exactly “objects” (and I don’t want to get lost in philosophical rabbit holes), I’ll stick to material things—stuff you can touch, hold, maybe even drop on your…
-
Through the Potter’s Hands I have been poor, I have been rich,I have held love, and I have watched it slip.I have known life, and I have met loss,Children close, then distant—a breath, a reach, a fading echo. These are the moments that have shaped me,some I recall with clarity,others still whisper their lessons in…
BB Grey--musings 