I’m flying over farmville as we speak. Topeka, Kansas, to be exact. I’m going to Los Angelos to visit a friend I haven’t seen in years. He called me one month ago and asked me to come. I’m trying to say yes when I’m invited on an adventure. So here I am. Catch flights, not …
Author Archives: lifeofadisgruntled20something
Words from a Mourning Daughter
“It’s a hard thing, losing a father
after they’ve been sick for so long.
You feel relieved
melancholic
peaceful
devastated
calm
grateful that they’re out of pain, grateful to have your life back
but wrecked to have it back without them in it.”
Ramblings, 2 Years Later
I am a female twenty-something, and the last time I wrote a post that started this way, we were two months into a deadly pandemic with no end in sight. I am here to report that two years have passed, and there is still no end in sight. No end to the pandemic. No end …
Thoughts at 30,000 Feet
And most importantly, I want to say I’m sorry for not seeing you when we were together. I’m glad at least Phoebe fucking Bridgers did. She held you, and now she’s holding me, too.
Isn’t It Funny
“But the funny thing about all of this happening this year is that hindsight is 2020, huh? I don’t want kids because I don’t want to have to explain to them when I tuck them in at night how badly we all screwed up our chance to save each other when I was a young twenty-something. “
Seeing Today As the Past
In this moment, I realized that I was in what I would refer to the good old days in maybe twenty years.
Giving Yourself Permission to Try
I was worried about advocating for myself and felt that I was not qualified for an opportunity that had presented itself to me. She responded to my fears and anxieties by saying “Give yourself permission to try. If the universe stops you, so be it.”
If I’m Lucky
What I might get done today if I’m lucky is wake up on my slightly too firm mattress, alone, and catch a glimpse of the trees speaking to each other outside of my bedroom window. I’ll dress slowly, considering how my jeans might pair with my blouse to create a combination most appropriate for work. I’ll pass a chipped and dusty mirror to pick the accessory that goes best with bags under my eyes and the distress on the lips. Studs. They’re perfect.
A Rebuke of Chronic Dissatisfaction
People only put pen to paper
to write about three things:
love
pain
and sorrow.
Today,
I stand to write about something different:
Euphoria.
on shame: A footnote on sexual communication
“I fear the second I begin to love my body is the moment you’ll begin to resent it.”
Life of a Disgruntled Twenty-Something 