Skip to main content


Featured Post

Honey Sunshine Chai Tea Warm Milk

Recent posts

Sorry, I don't dance

It started with a bursting flame And ended with a knife hidden under the mattress A forbidden kiss that sealed our fate A fear that turned my blood cold He was filled with darkness Though he shone like porcelain Was this love, or possession? Was this fate, or trap? Did I stumble into his arms? Or did he place the wire? He was life and life was he Nothing else existed I danced around him forever Like the Moon dances around the Earth But he told me he didn't dance What a shame it is to put such strong legs To waste * * *  

Fear Inoculated

Today I want to talk about "doing the right thing." You know , that certain feeling you get deep inside that's pushing you towards something. The  right  something. I think a lot of the time, we repress that feeling. We try our damnedest to push ourselves towards the something we   think   is the right something. We sit there and pretend, with our tongues held in place, because we don't want to disturb "the peace." We come up with every excuse in the book as to why we think the   real   "right something" is   actually   wrong, and we find ourselves dancing this unnatural tango trying to convince others that your   wrong   something is actually the "right something." Can you understand what I'm saying here? It's our fears. Our apprehension to change. And, God forbid , that change  actually  be TRANSFORMING and POSITIVE ! Right? Why do we sit in fear that going after something is bad? Why do the negative thoughts come into play her

The Wrong Equation

Let's see, last we really   talked, I was seemingly a diagnosed bipolar mother who was struggling to figure out medication, love, family, and sorrowful past. Let me tell you though, there was something buried deep within me that I did not show to any of you. In fact, I found out in September of 2017 that I was not bipolar at all. That everything, every  single  little  detail   of pain and chaos was not due to a mood-disorder at all, but due to an underlying trauma that I refused to acknowledge or accept. I was the one who suggested to my doctors and psychiatrist that I was bipolar.  Now you may ask, "Sage, why on Earth would you want to be diagnosed with a mood-disorder?!" To which I would reply, "I needed an explanation." In that time of my life, when everything was anger and pain, when I couldn't see past my trauma, when the trauma was screaming louder than my own thoughts, I needed an explanation. I needed the solution to the equation.  If X + Me = Suffe

A New Beginning

Hello World, I am back to the bloggerverse after a wild almost  three years time... I know, I know, I left without any real warning. I turned the site to private and didn't renew my domain, well honestly, because I didn't have anything to write. And more   honestly than that, I felt like I was not allowed to write anything. More on that in another post. 2017 was a whirlwind of complete chaos. There was SO much happening, I couldn't even begin to think of one simple thing to write about. 2017 was my rock-bottom. 2017 needed time to decompress. And if you couldn't tell from my latest posts in 2017 I was not in the best head-space. Luckily, life is very different now. Life feels A LOT lighter, even given the circumstances of the world today. Selfishly, I'd much rather be here in the year 2020 than have to go through 2017 again. But that's just me. Anyway, I wanted to come on here and play on the blog again. I will make a more detailed post about life in the next on


Her eyes, like broken stars Her heart, a black hole where earthly creatures fall into Her soul, like the dying sun Her breath, like the ever changing moon, ebbing and flowing Her skin, like the waves of the sea Her mouth, like the sand of the desert Her hair, like the roots of tall trees Her fingers, like the roads of the country Her feet like heavy mountains, resting harshly on the earth Her mind like the wildflowers; growing, blooming, wilting, dying Her belly, like a hurricane of butterflies Her lips like the first snow; untouched Her toes, like pebbles in a river Her hips, like the caravans gypsies would travel And she's too much For even herself. And not enough For these constellations.

David is God

I have not written here in months....well....I have attempted to and never publish them because I am a scaredy-cat, so they sit in my drafts. SO much has happened. First of all, this blog is a year old already, which I thought seemed off, but you know how time is. I know this has really mostly been an un-interactive blog for the most part, but it does bring many smiles to my face to see that people still come here to read my junk. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.. <3 Okay, so I'm not going to get into many details here, because so much has happened the past few months. The end of 2016 was terrible. Lots of heart-ache. I also started back up at the college here and there are three days left of winter quarter and on to spring quarter. I am still aiming to be a psychiatrist, though I am mostly going with the flow to feel around and see what is right for me. If I could, I would gather all of the people that need guidance, confidence, strength, hope for life and love,

Pile of Sweater

Everything has fallen apart. The sweater that was unraveling, the one I kept holding together, has fallen through my hands. I loved that fucking sweater. Just a pile of string on the floor now. I can see what it used to be but I never really learned to crochet! I can't fucking fix this!! And I'm scared. Scared to be living in the United States of Fucking Hypocrisy. Scared to be alone. Scared to feel more pain. The cat is projectile vomiting on the rug and she's already skin and bones. I'm trying to submerge myself in the music because I know what happens when you submerge yourself in the darkness. But is this really happening?? Can't I make it all stop? Swollen eyes every day. Headache a quarter after one. Fear of the night time. Just wanna drink and pretend that everything isn't so bad. "Yeah we're good." Swig. Smile. Swig. Smile. Swig. Smile. There's more I'd like to say, and I am confined. The things I thought were impossible