luna acres

Several months ago we were walking into our favorite bar downtown, and the crowd of people was already overflowing onto the street. Just before stepping inside I passed a couple that seemed like ghosts to me. My heart stopped. She had inspired me to really start blogging, with her lovely posts and photographs. And he, well, he used to be my best friend. We met on new years eve when I was 13, both awkward outcasts at a church event (probably more true of me than of him...) We shared a taste in music, in fact he introduced me to several of my favorites, like Ben Harper and Radiohead. We helped each other through the chaos that is puberty, starting highschool, and first dates. I hadn't seen them in years. They live in another state. Time changes us all- but this was someone who helped me grow up, helped me survive, and I couldn't make eye contact. I couldn't smile. I couldn't say hello. Living with social anxiety means that  sometimes, everyday you're

I am trying to get back into the blogging world after months of radio silence. Sometimes life gets the best of me and I fall off the radar for awhile. Back in January of this year I made the goal to write a book, something I have thought about many times but still haven't made much progress on. It is a work of fiction, but inspired by my personal struggle with anxiety, depression and self mutilation. In an attempt to motivate myself and make use of this space again, this is a piece I wrote this weekend. I am torn about sharing, it is personal and very very real- please proceed with caution. Please be aware that it is graphic and may be triggering to those suffering with similar issues. I. Depression. Depression is a pit. Everyday we walk through a minefield of holes craters sinkholes. Some are easy to miss they are in the open you can circle them see what will cause you to fall step back avoid it. But others are camouflaged,  hidden   secret. There are trip w