Author: Why Are You Yelling?
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The Shape It Takes
A poem in X parts. This piece is made of scraps—lines I kept in notebooks, typed into my phone, left half-finished in margins over many years. I didn’t try to force a throughline, I just followed the tone and the emotional weight of things that stuck around. It moves like memory: non-linear, repetitive, contradictory, occasionally…
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Post-Scraps from the Edge
After 2020, I started to use Instagram more as a kind of public scrapbook. It wasn’t just about sharing photos—it was about writing the captions to contextualize them, using writing to process my thoughts like I always had. Sometimes I knew what I was working through. Sometimes I didn’t. It felt necessary, as a means…
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How about titling it “Conversing with the Digital Void: A Raw Dialogue”?
That’s personally not what I would have chosen but… I don’t know about you but I fall down a meta-cognitive rabbit hole whenever I write now, no matter what I’m writing. After the below stream-of-consciousness-turned-convo-with-ChatGPT1, I now know this includes digital journal writing—wherein I start in earnest with self-exploration and veer into commodifying my existential…
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A fat TV character can’t exist without implicit bias (yet)
Because nothing is created in a vacuum. Have you watched Baby Reindeer yet? I wasn’t going to. I watched the trailer and thought it best to avoid it. But the buzz got the best of me, and I watched an episode. I won’t be finishing it but I have some thoughts.
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Body, she’s me
Body, she’s me. Shadow, that’s mine. Ample arms fluffymarshmallowy whitecotton-cushiony cloud hugs—when she engulfs youit reminds you of what you’ve been meaning to remember.Must be magic. At the beach, she’s as big as the ocean.Sandy thighs ripple like wavesas she drops to the ground and crosses her legs. She engulfs the shadows of seagulls. I swallow the scene. It’s…
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Welcome to CA
I’ve been in California a couple months now, and it’s been an unbelievably slow acclimation. It’s not something I understand consciously—I can’t point to anything that’s been “wrong.” I just knew I didn’t feel right yet and that I had to be patient with myself.
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Reflections on “doing the work”
Today was my last session with Laura, the amazing therapist I’ve been working with since 2015. We knew that we went as far as we could go together. I have new hills to climb, and I may need a new partner to help me get there. (More specifically, I want to focus on my recovery…
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Mad Belly
Mad belly,shaking volcano. Laughing moves earth,breaking ground.Up and down vibratingsound, like thunderclapsand breaking waves. Heaving, growing,climbing for freedom. Soft hotsoil fallsfrom your fingers. Wild earth, fleshy feminine. Down belowbodies are buzzing. You make me quake.
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Monumental
I retell myself stories about you.Memories become legend, photos become statues,but your echoing laugh sounds exactly the same.Why are you alive in my sleep? It hurts me to tell you this.I don’t think he’s doing well.I don’t think I can fix it.His son’s face, turned toward the sun,is the most beautiful thing you’ll never see. You…
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