Lotus

by Jennifer Hartmann

My painting of Oliver Lynch is still dappled in faded coffee residue, and I would give anything to fix him.

I much prefer the monsters I create myself. I prefer them because I always win.

I’m totally cool living in my fantasy world, dying a crazy cat lady.

Nobody likes a fruit basket.

lol

“How far do you think the ground is from the window? Rough estimate? Do you think I’ll croak, or will I just break my legs and live out the rest of my humiliation in a wheelchair?”

“There is beauty to be found everywhere…even in the things that scare us.”

I fail to see the point in setting an alarm for a specific time, knowing you will not abide by the time you set it for. A strange habit, indeed.

It appears most jobs require experience, and yet how am I able to acquire any experience if no one will consider me? A catch-22.

FOR REAL THOUGH

“Because we’re a fucked-up, complicated species prone to self-sabotage, baseless insecurities, and the notion that there’s always something better around the corner. We’re constantly chasing imaginary destinations, thinking we’re missing out, wanting more. We’re never truly present.”

“Like every star in the galaxy tumbled to earth and crawled beneath my skin.”

The truth is, I didn’t have a heart to give. My heart was with a ghost.

“I’m right here, with you, and I’m still holding on to your heart. Please don’t ask me to give it back.”

Thank you for loving me, ugly parts and all.

We will fight. We will live.