I could be your carpenter.

Is this bitch for real?

<<... Also, I don't think you single childless people know what you want anyway. You're always changing your mind about when it's ok for people to talk about this stuff. I think you all should probably at least meet up and get your story straight, but you'd probably just get drunk and end up having ill-advised, unprotected sex and want to TELL EVERYONE ABOUT IT.>>

There are one million way-too-personal feelings I have about this article in addition to several cheap shots I want to take at her.
Maybe she's being sarcastic and I should give her the benefit of the doubt but the article is way too long which leads me to believe she thinks she's a good writer and takes it way too seriously.

Maybe she should have read this first.

Saying nothing, that's enough for me

One day I will write a song about Christmas morning with our child. How we couldn't contain our excitement hours before-- eating halves of cookies and gnawing the sides of carrot sticks, pretend proof that something else exists.

All under the boughs unbowed

All these feelings, now nine years old, are resurfacing and overwhelming and I wish it was appropriate to cry all the time but I'm also kind of glad it's not.
It's frustrating because I don't even know why I'm getting sad or nervous- it's not like they can tell me anything I don't already know.
Tomorrow will be a reminder of reality, as if it's not already something I think about every day.
I would really just like a fast-forward button, or a big, fat joint.

I just didn't think I would be this sad.

This is pouring rain.

This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me

27

Happy birthday to my best friend.

You were who you thought you were.

The floors are falling out from everybody I know.

Last night my dad found me bawling on the floor of our laundry room.

Weeks, maybe months of bullshit building up in my head.

I don't even know how long we were talking; I lost any measurement of time after I finished folding clothes.

I would be absolutely nowhere without my dad.

There's an ancient pull.

It's the little differences.

I'll drown my beliefs to have your babies.

It's the kind of love where I can't describe a single thing because no matter what I say or how big I smile when I talk about it, it seems far too trite.

He deserves everything I'm capable of giving.

damn your ankles and eyes wide

Today is another one of those days.

One of these nights I'll finally get a decent night's worth of rest.

And that's why you can't sleep without forgetting.

My old friends-- it was so different then.

I think that about photos of other people.

It's also the reason I try to have an annual picture with each of my parents and my brother.

This was supposed to be the year.