Thought.is

The fourth time I go to Chicago we are already in Wisconsin before we slide into the Twitter dms of a writer we know from Tumblr and ask if we can sleep on his floor.

This is a poem for the duck in the water who thought I might have some bread.

If this were a book I were reading I would screenshot the section to a writer friend and say ‘lol that’s not how things work.’

April doesn’t have to be the cruelest month!

I’m falling behind in a very specific way that is available for everyone to witness.

They don’t tell you that one day you will be in a beach house filled and warm with people you met through a small screen in your hand.

One of the scariest comments I read all the time across different platforms (but especially on Thought Catalog) is “you call this journalism?”