The problem with milestones is they are so wide and in between. You’re automatically considered some type of failure if you don’t follow the rule book. Which to some extent, is a tenable point. However, everyone has their own journey to follow.

Milestones should act as guides, not dictators of one’s path. Milestones can and will change. I think people should just focus on doing what fulfills them at a core level.

It isn’t about 75-100k or bust. It isn’t about three bedroom house with 2.5 kids. It isn’t about that. And if you take a look at previous generations, there has always been a shift here and there to the “rules.”

So I say fuck the status quo and do what you want. Fuck tradition. As long as you’re still growing as an individual, consider these arbitrary milestones met. It is only when people fail to grow that they realize their milestones have come up short. You can try and blame external factors out of your control. But the truth laments that every generation had its struggle and we are absolutely no different. It’s about how you take those hardships and overcome them with honest character. That’s what milestones should ideally measure and represent.



it was good lounging around
sleeping and sighing and screwing around
blinds drawn, open close
inhale, exhale
wondrous endorphins, riding this high

it was our little world, save us from them
the oppressors, the people who didn’t -get- it
it was good hanging around
running and hiding from responsibilities
growing up, growing old
decisions i didn’t want to face
hide under the covers and procrastinate

it was hard, riding home
no call, no message, no fuck given
i sat on the greyhound, quietly crying
the whole two hour ride home

it was a memory when i was twenty
thick and heavy, sweet like honey
swimming in sin and escaping responsibility
inevitably wondering,
do you still think of me



when you fall apart before you even had a chance, it’s hard to forget. there’s always these infinite possibilities, picture perfect scenarios, gram-worthy photo stocks

i ask myself why it’s so damn hard to forget, if i’m just a hedonist trying too damn hard to hold on to it.

i tell myself i’m not alone. you expressed the same sentiment, once.

i ask myself why it’s so damn hard to forget, if we’re both just pleasure-seeking junkies awaiting our next sweet hit.

i remind myself that there was pain. lots of it, probably endless amounts spilling over, if i’d continued to stay.

i ask myself if you knew what you were doing, dousing and lighting and nursing my wounds. play rescue doctor and evil surgeon until i’m nothing but ruins

put morphine through the needle, i’ll try to forget. my body grows lifeless; seeds of paranoia, resentment, and disgust are met.


chasing pavements

i find it strange my brain still wants to write about you
just has no energy to actually produce worthy content
what else can i say that i haven’t already in some shape or form
i know i’d want to say something like, bullshit you miss me
with clever anecdotes that help captivate an audience
but, with time, it’s all slowly slipping away
it first started when i couldn’t bring myself to feel pain anymore
self inflicting wounds, times infinity
and then i began exploring possibilities without you
developing the -slightest- interest in someone other than you
at first, it felt like betrayal
all the time and thought i invested in just you
how dare i even -consider- opening up your terrain
a space of black matter you inadvertently occupied all this time
no, for the first time in a long time, i put someone else on the shrine
momentarily, just to see how i like it maybe
and for the first time, in a long time, i feel like i’m actually moving on.

chasing pavements

Substance Abuse

If your life is so miserable that you have to get drunk to have some enjoyment in life, why don’t you go jump off a building, and the rest of us can get on with our lives?

Now I know it’s a little graphic and I’m sure the author doesn’t actually mean to promote suicide, the point is still simple: If you can’t have an enjoyable life without drugs or alcohol, what’s the point of living it?

I wish I could just put this on a billboard near every bar and dispensary in town. It is so goddamned engraved in our culture. This kind of unacceptable, toxic behavior. No, I’m never going to be the type that’s skipping to happy hour or needing a “drink” to “take the edge off.”

Growing up, as children, we see alcohol being romanticized. In movies, we watch as the main character has a drink and then musters up the courage to talk to a girl. Or we watch as the boss decides to offer a promotion to his loyal, bar accompanying assistant.

Reality though, is little different. My first experience with drunk bosses occurred two years ago. I worked as a waiter for a few weeks before I got fired (lol). One night, while we were cleaning up the restaurant, my boss opened a beer. I quickly learned this was his typical closing ritual. As he began to drink, his personality would increasingly become more candid.

At one point, he took it out on my coworker. Just straight yelling at her. I don’t even remember what the fuck for. All I remember was he said something about her fingernails not being perfectly manicured. She started quietly crying. The worst part of about it is, he didn’t even stop or dial down once she began to cry. It was like he was looking for a reaction for his own satisfaction.

I didn’t last there long. And if i was that girl, I would have quit right then and there.

Since I live in Washington, this post would be remiss without a notable mention of marijuana. When you start working, often mary j becomes a symbol of camaraderie and solace among coworkers. Statements like, “Do you smoke?” are more like exclusive social invitations. You’ve made it. The cool crowd. The let’s-get-stoned crowd.

Weed, in essence, is not that much different from alcohol. Not its chemical properties. But the fact that weed is used to foster socialization among coworkers. And the truth is, I learned after a few years that stoners continue to work at jobs to pay for their addiction. They will only develop serious motivation and ambition if their weed-funds become dangerously depleted.

One day it all made sense to me. For this incredibly long post, which I’m only privileged to write when school is not in session, I come to my main thesis: Don’t work a job where you need to be high or buzzed to “get through it.” Your job should be something you’re proud and excited to do. Obviously that’s an optimistic belief, however I truly think when you put whatever substance you’re addicted to away, perhaps you will figure out what truly brings fulfillment to you. Because honestly, alcohol and drugs are a pretty pitiful way to generate fulfillment.

Substance Abuse


Trust is weird, comfort is dangerous, and your eyes are full
A delicate silhouette, rising and falling
I can almost trace out the second
I realized you were in love with someone
Pure wonder in a dream wasteland
The careful concave, automatic exhale
A woven story, determined to fail.


Growing up

Ain’t nothing the same anymore. I can’t believe we all grew up together.
we all have certain chapters dedicated to certain people
we threw the ink on page and slashed out those who no longer served us
we felt their essence try to break through our story
bleeding through the paper, pens pressing too hard
scars that last forever, a lasting memory, abominable art
we say words we don’t mean, apologies in silence
catharsis in the needle, a world apart fighting isis
terrorism on the planet won’t grant us poetic justice.

Growing up