This is a story.
Charcoal clouds circled in the valley from high above the city’s center. A man, a little older than the both of us, stood on his doorstep in a town miles away and watched the black veil stretch from the infinite sky down to the ground below and violently swirl east to west and west to east, but always being brought back towards the center by some unseen force. The clouds moved so quickly he wasn’t sure they were moving at all.
Squinting his eyes, he witnessed the clouds pass over far away buildings, and when they had moved on, there was no sight of the previously familiar buildings. No steeples, no towers blocking his view through the valley now. [Excerpt]
I have an unhealthy obsession with seeing average people win needless crap. The more
average the person and the more needless the crap, the higher my brain’s serotonin spikes. [Excerpt]
I’d already been to hell twice in my life by my 18th birthday. My first trip was near the end of high school, back when gas prices averaged a buck thirty-five and Kelly Clarkson was busy being crowned the first American Idol. These factors coupled together would eventually equal my escape from childhood: my first car on the wide open road, me inside belting ballads.
But not before I first paid one hell of a visit to American Legion Boys State in The Sticks, Tennessee. If inside my car was a place I could reinvent myself, then Boys State was the place where I could try just being ‘one of the guys’. And that’s all I secretly wanted for my sixteen-year-old wretched self. [Excerpt]
Growing up I never knew quarter-life crises were a legit thing. I’d only ever heard of the mid-life variety that gifted men with new red sports cars. Recently I’ve learned that the quarter-life strain of crises are far less shiny, except for the shine of prematurely balding heads. The quarter-life crisis isn’t a secret because it’s uncommon. It’s a secret because we’re not ready to admit that we’re breakable.
Every now and then I still have horrific flashbacks to the seven seconds that set off my own quarter life crisis a few years ago.... [Excerpt]
Secretly I like to think that the hope of the gift and what it represents is really what we’re after. To know that we are loved. When we feel loved, we want to become the best versions of ourselves. And Jess makes me want to be my better version. [Excerpt]
I never expected to be the gay one. In between all the Sunday school, youth group and Fellowship of Christian Athletes’ events, being gay wasn’t quite outlined in my plans. [Excerpt]
Three-hundred and sixty five days - and I’d like to underline each one of them. One year in many ways feels like one month, feels like a decade. It’s been nothing like the expectations I had laid out in my head, but much more. Coming home makes for good reflecting time away from the city. The past one year has been a rollercoaster of courage, fear, faith, loneliness, meditation, gratitude, joy and pure freedom embedded within new experiences, friends, job, home, and a new mindset. [Excerpt]
There’s a tree outside my apartment window in New York. I have no idea what kind of tree it is, but it looks like a million tiny ferns crawled up onto its branches and planted themselves into its bark. A million tiny ferns that were now bright yellow, as if they were protesting the summer sunshine to return to our street. [Excerpt]
October is my favorite year, err month, for a million different reasons. Mostly involving the saturation of colors and football, of friends and food. My first October in the city was certainly no exception. I felt like the luckiest boy in the world to have 8 friends visit in October. If you visited, please don't let that number diminish the fact that you were here. After all, you are my favorite. I'm ever thankful for the memories we were able to share. [Excerpt]
Fall. Everyone's favorite culture. Even the textiles seem softer and smoother and more gentle on the skin. As if the air itself tastes like grace. Cathartic clouds -- turquoise sheets draped behind gray piles of cumulonimbus lace. A cool breeze blowing through, carrying us back to high school football games and bonfires on beaches where we've never been, but we always imagined that we did. The feeling of a thousand memories inhaled in one whiff, the taste of sweet nostalgia and college meal plans. [Excerpt]
The belief that anything is possible, and that your friends really are the best. Because, well, they are. And in this moment, you're reminded of why that's so very true. Eventually, we'll get the chance to do it all again. But in the meantime, my suitcase sits like a time capsule on the floor of my bedroom. Reminding me of the fun that was had. I'm not prepared to unpack just yet, I need the memories to reside here. [Excerpt]
The fear didn't just immediately melt away when I made up my mind to go on this adventure. No, first fear tried to bring all its friends, every single one of my insecurities, along on this vacation. [Excerpt]
Don't be afraid to ask: Why do I want this? If you find yourself coming back to your heart, go for it. If you find yourself pointing to others, particularly to please them, consider running from it. Right now is the perfect time to begin answering that call you've let ring again and again like a morning alarm clock. Stop hitting the snooze. [Excerpt]
