Stream of Consciousness

behind the curtain

they weren’t really listening but they saw the truth anyway. it looked, for all its effort, like a lie. came wrapped up in a story they didn’t understand. but they only stuck to the surface, wanting a laugh, wanting a smile, wanting a fake face and a comfortable tale.

and so the truth slipped into the unknown, alone and lost and wondering why so many walked by, shrugging at its apparent sounds of struggle and pleas for help.

but then you happened upon us.

one silly smile and the world was alight with sun globes and sparkles and all those little pieces of confetti that were thrown away at the end of the parties. gathered up and stuffed in our pillows, because you happened upon us.


it’s not just that you sauntered on by. it’s that you stopped.

in the stopping, you breathed in, like a dragon with a belly full of fire, waiting to soak in every moment, notice every tiny detail in a world impermanent and ever-changing. a momentous shift in the state of things, nothing more than a spec of a second to you, the gem at the corner of your eyes.

a blink, and what’s what has changed for you.

yet you paused, a galaxy worth’s of memory, and you saw us. smiled, and reached a scaly hand down, down, down into the depths of what most ignored. their sideways glances bringing hurried steps quicker and quicker, further and further away. wouldn’t want to have to deal with it. wouldn’t want to have to change or help or stoop down to lend a hand.

but you dipped your claws into the muck and the hidden, pulling the truth from behind the curtain, and held us in your hands like the most precious of treasures.


we realized then. the truth isn’t what’s written or noticed. we didn’t need them to see in order to be. the truth is the truth, no matter the trappings. and you showed us the cost of accepting is brilliancy untold.



Stream of Consciousness

i live inside a cemetery

i had given up. thrown in the last scrap of a soul i had and let myself die. no more embers to search for, no warmth regardless of where i searched.

i had written my name in the book of the dead, with a gun to my head. under extreme duress, i guess i had nowhere to turn.

you took it all away, piece by piece, bit by bit. you slithered into my body and broke everything down. until breathing became the only measurement of success. but that’s not a purpose, now is it? that’s not joy, no matter how you spin it.

you destroyed me and dropped me in the expanse of emptiness, left me to wipe away the waterfall of blood and submerged me til i couldn’t find the surface. it’s an inky little vibe, drowning for no one to see.

that’s the kicker, isn’t it?

that i can follow my own footsteps into a soft and cavernous valley. i can lay back in the water and let the ocean waves take me. but you won’t let me feel it, will you? i can’t have peace when i’m nothing more than a body on life support, living inside a cemetery.

i had given up but you wouldn’t let me have that either.


so i put one foot in front of the other and kept going until i found myself right here.

i think i hate superhero stories because they don’t exist. not for me anyway. no one and nothing is coming to help me, not even when i ask for it. not when i’m begging for something to get better, lying in the bath and wondering if i’m any cleaner.

the evil moved into my body and took over. it’s inside my blood, running my insides into the ground. i’m fighting a devil that lives inside my cells and no one can find the key to fixing me.

i’m not supposed to be bitter or struggling to survive. i’m not supposed to be lost behind fog and smoke and mirrors, not supposed to be crying on the floor and crawling on broken skin. these fingers lash at me, pointing out all my flaws and shoulds, like i chose this, picked this broken box up and jumped inside.

i didn’t. i’m running and running and fighting to break free. but i open my eyes in the morning to find i’ve woken up in yesterday, my body broken and my heart taking another hit.

i know this anger won’t serve me, so i stuff it in the closet and behind furniture. i don’t want it, plea with it to leave me be. but you always find it, don’t you? i can’t scream, i can’t find a moment, not a sliver, just for me.

i’m supposed to feel better. i’m supposed to be hopeful and bouncy and talk about how grateful i am to be alive.

but am i?



Stream of Consciousness


(this is a pinned post. new posts appear below)


I’m not sure I have a voice.

You see, there’s a slumbering trembling that takes a step into something warm and inviting, like the sun, but with training wheels.

And every time the light of day hits it, someone comes along with a sledgehammer and takes it all away.

I keep lying there, catching my breath. Before sitting back up, playing with my fingers in the sand, writing maps no one understands but me.

It’s lonely.

But I can still feel the pulse of it in me, thrumming into a hurricane of neediness, ready to explode and take everything in its path with it. Down into this desert of warmth and cool breezes and nothing that really belongs in these flat lands.

Do you remember the first time you felt the sun’s heat on your flesh? I think I must’ve had a hand over my mouth, but it wasn’t mine. I think I must’ve had some words fall out, but they came from another tongue.

So I grab my shoes and shake the dust out and, what do you know?, I’m still entirely ready to get the wind knocked out of me by hope.

Stream of Consciousness

You Won’t Understand When You’re Older

We got ripped off.

As kids, everyone was telling us that we’d understand when we got older.

Sure, I understand some more delicate things that kid brains don’t, but life in general? It’s gotten fuzzier, more complicated.

More vague, less defined.

The older I get, the more I’m exposed to, the more I experience – the more confusion rolls in with fogs of doubt and shades of grey.

I thought we’d make sense of things. Make sense of ourselves.

I feel like it’s the opposite.

Now, I just feel lost.

In the world and when it comes to my sense of identity.


Is there a tipping point?

Do I simply need to get older?

More experience?

Or is it truly a lie?


I think I may have just sniffed out some naive hope. That that tipping point will hit, I’ll come out the other side with some sense of what’s what.


Or perhaps there is no defining moment. No quota of life lived to unlock an inner sense of stability and knowing.

Maybe I have to figure this out, define myself for myself. Scrape away all the dead skin cells of pain and brainwashing and unhealthy neural pathways – and keep rebuilding.


But when will I stop feeling lost?




Stream of Consciousness

I Don’t Often Like Superhero Stories

I have a hugely unpopular opinion…. I don’t really like superhero stories.

I recently discovered this about myself as I watched three separate superhero television shows in one week and then started to think about all the other superhero movies, shows, books, etc. that I’ve seen/read. They were reruns, so it wasn’t like I was basing this off fresh emotional responses.

The main character/ hero/heroine is typically pretty cool. I like that. I don’t like stories with annoying main characters. I’m not the type who wants to follow someone around in their head for 80,000 words while hoping they get demolished by the bad guy.

So a cool hero or heroine isn’t the issue.

It seems to me, that writers tend to have a problem with main characters who are close to being “all powerful”. You see, if you write a character who has a lot of strength – you have a problem.

What drives a story?

Conflict. Someone or something being bigger, badder, stronger, smarter, and better equipped than the main character (the “good guy”). Otherwise, it’s boring. No struggle. No fight.

If there’s no bad guy that actually poses a threat, there’s no story.

I feel like those who write superhero stories overcompensate.

By making everything else in the story absolutely SUCK.


  • Friend group? They’re not actual friends.
    • They’re going to hold the hero/heroine to a gold standard, A creature mind controls the hero? Totally the hero’s fault. Absolute betrayal. But the “friends” tell every other character in the story (good guys, bad guys, even other characters with powers) that mistakes happen. And the friends forgive them unhealthily fast.
    • They’re going to betray the hero/heroine and act like its no big deal. But if the hero/heroine doesn’t jump on board with every little bad idea or petty opinion of the friend, then the hero/heroine is terrible.
    • Said “friends” go against the hero/heroine all the time. They never believe in the hero/heroine and always think he/she is in the wrong. They back bite, second guess, sit on their high horse, and act like the hero/heroine is terrible and they themselves are perfect.
    • They treat all the other friends in the friend group like actual friends. But not the hero/heroine.
    • I’m going to stop this list here before I set someone on fire.


  •  Romantic relationships? 
    • ha ha
    • ha ha
    • ha ha
    • yeah, no
    • The hero/heroine is going to lie to the one person they “love” for the purpose of keeping them safe. Because leaving someone in the dark and unprepared for all the mayhem that will ensue will totally keep them safe.
    • Not to mention the hero/heroine will disrespect their so called friends and love interest by telling everyone in the bloody story their secret except their friends and love interest.
    • But if they do end up together, the love interest is going to die. Immediately.


  • Unsatisfying bad guy redemption arcs.
    • Why are they unsatisfying? Because the big bad from a previous part of the story suddenly becomes a good guy. And then dies saving the main character/ good guy. There are so many reasons that this is terrible that I want to blow something up. 


  • Strong main character?
    • Yeah, no. The super hero doesn’t make their own decisions, speak up for themselves, or have a spine of any sort.
    • And they probably have a nauseatingly self-deprecating disguise that’s pretty much a loser – telling everyone that in order to have any real strength, you have to be pathetic and hate your life.


  • Heroes can save the world but not their own personal world.
    • Then what’s the point? Stories (especially super hero stories) are supposed to give hope to the normal every day human being. Instead, they’re telling us that we need to be a 1950’s housewife and give up having a life, boundaries, joy, or any point for living and instead fix everyone else’s life, even though they treat us like their personal toy that doesn’t actually matter.


  • Heroes fight other heroes. Which causes a whole bunch of stupid issues.
    • Good guys fighting good guys just totally inspires hope (sarcasm – that’s sarcasm) while talking about how humans divide each other into groups… without ever talking about how it’s wrong, causes more issues, and that, um, it’s wrong. Division is how we fall. We don’t need more division. And when our stories glorify division, glorify taking sides, they’re adding to the problem.
    • The important things aren’t being dealt with because the good guys are all too busy being petty and fighting with each other.
    • Edmund Burke is rolling in his grave. Because good people fighting good people is just as bad as good people doing nothing.


  • Kind heroes get treated like trash. If the hero/heroine is a genuinely good person (not perfect, because that’s not possible) then people always treat them like scum. Without fail. It perpetuates the whole, “good guy/gal get’s the short of end the stick/ never gets the guy/gal” shtick. 


  • When the hero/heroine wins, they don’t actually win. Either time is reversed, erasing all their personal and public wins. Or they achieve superhero-ish success by sacrificing their personal happiness/life/identity. Again, telling us that we cannot help others AND have our own identity/life/self-respect.


  • The hero’s parents. They always have control over the hero/heroine.
    • They can control the hero/heroine.
    • They can control the hero/heroine’s romantic life, work life, friendships.
    • Jeez, they can control their dieting life.
    • The hero/heroine is not a real adult. They let parental figures jerk them around, control them, manipulate them. And not just once. Forever.


I could keep going. I could. But I’m going to stop now. If you haven’t noticed, I have some strong feelings on the subject.

I take storytelling seriously. We’re saying things with the stories we tell.

What do you love or hate about superhero movies/books/television shows??? Why?

Know of any superhero stories that don’t have all these terrible overcompensations?



Stream of Consciousness · Videos

If You’re Mind-Numbingly Bored or Depressed #1

I’m not one for mindless distraction 24/7. If you’ve ever ended up in the black hole of clicking or sitting in front of the television until you realized you’re only there because you have nothing else to do – and now to make matters worse, all this mind numbing distraction has slowly siphoned your will to live….

But you’re still not allowed to or able to leave the house and/or your couch, or perhaps you’re so depressed that you’re going to have to just go with it for a while…

BUT you also don’t want to keep watching things that numb or depress you more – 

Here are some videos that might break up the monotony, help you relax, get all the drama off your mind, inspire you, or simply give you a reason to laugh.


What You’ll Find:

  • if you want to laugh
  • if you want to see animals being sweet and lovable
  • feel good, emotional music videos
  • oddly satisfying
  • informative
  • for writers
  • asmr
  • animals being rescued, loved, and becoming happy
  • shameless self-promotion of my 2 YouTube channel


What videos are you watching?






















  • daphne shadows
  • daphne shadows asmr