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My thoughts. My feelings. My story.
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

I wanted to be as far away from her as I could. Her stillness and grey complexion made me queasy. There was a faint shadow of darkness hovering above her. It was barely visible now. It had been fading since she was taken away by the paramedics, that was last week.

Goosebumps tickled my arms and legs, causing the tiny hairs on my skin to stand up. I absently rubbed the bumpy flesh and looked around the dimly lit room from the hardwood pew in the back. Guests were trickling in. …

Photo by Soundtrap on Unsplash

Running a podcast is not easy, even though it sounds pretty straight forward. If you don’t have a plan going in, you’re not likely to get beyond one or two episodes, and you aren’t likely going to get many listeners. These are the lessons I learned by failing my first podcast.

  1. Write a script
  2. Don’t rush
  3. Get out of your head.
  4. Experiment with topics
  5. Stick to a single niche
  6. Have guest hosts
  7. You don’t have to be an expert in editing.
  8. Learn to fail gracefully

There are a whole set of steps you have to take to produce your first…


Identity is tricky and generates labels and judgments. I don’t deal well with either. If I were forced to use a label I would use Queer.

I prefer to remain fluid, as I am in a constant state of flux. I struggle to force myself into a box, in order to make others feel more comfortable.

My personality is claustrophobic.

The question; is fluidity born from rebellious resistance, or simply a symptom of aging?

As I age, so does my perspective. One hits a point in life, where they are tired of simply existing to please others. Where one has…

I suppose I will start by introducing myself.

My name is Desire Stevens, and I don’t exist. An odd thing to say I know, but it is true. Desire Stevens cessed to exist, 36ish years ago. I was quite sad about it for many years.

Honestly, having one’s identity stripped away at an early age, can really be quite devastating. Don’t get me wrong, there were extenuating circumstances to it all, and everyone really did just want the best for me; a mother's good intentions, and a father’s vindictive manipulations…

Which brings us back to the question of identity. …

(A writing exercise from a class I am taking.)

Tonight is steak dinner night, my favorite! My husband loves to spoil me.

As his sous chef, I take my position at the cutting board; he heads to the garden outback with a pair of scissors. We need fresh herbs for the morel mushroom sauce. I pulled the handle of the potato drawer down by my feet and reached for the half-empty sack hidden inside, putting it on the counter next to the cutting board.

Next, I reached for the chef’s knife in the drawer to the left and the “T”…

Emotions are finicky things. Over the years, I have found my go-to method for dealing with my roller coaster emotions is to put pen to paper.

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Anxiety is not fun to deal with, as you have probably already figured out. There are many things I have tried over the years to help me alleviate the buzzing in my mind. When I was younger, I found it difficult to verbalize the emotions I experienced at any given moment, mostly out of fear of what others might say if I spoke up. My words were usually met with a sharp hand. I…

It is so frustrating when you have so much to say, but nothing seems to come outright. Words elude me, and I wonder if I should even bother.

Doubt has me circling the drain. Frustration building, and I can’t seem to find an outlet for the flood threatening to rip my soul apart.

I want to scream. To scream out my anger until I feel nothing.

There are days when I wish I could turn a valve and shut off the flow. Emotions are exhausting, even more so when they aren’t your own. …

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