This night

Insomnia, when I have to be up at 6:30a, and somehow being allergic to the socks I had on is not why Jesus died on the cross.

Dear sweet and powerful AuntieGoddess Oprah, please just let me fall asleep (and let me stop thinking about that other thing) and I will redirect this mental energy into working on my book.

All this in the name of the interest on your savings accounts.


About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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