My bestie is really hard to buy for. She is very particular, and she likes expensive things that i cannot afford. That said, we do not exchange gifts for our birthdays or holidays. She would go crazy and get me expensive lovely gifts and i can't keep up with that. I know she meant well. So we decided no more gifts and she HATES it. Jen likes to thrift shop and pretty much only buys second hand items, like me. For her birthday last year she demanded i make her a bullet journal like mine. She loved it, and she wanted one. So i made her a planner and put a lot of quotes and pictures in it. She carries it with her everywhere. She loves it. Bestie, did NOT like the idea that i made Jen a gift. Did she say it? No. But i did feel her waves of "what the fuck" .......so this year, i'm making her gift. I wrote her a poem, and i am transferring it onto a watercolor painting i did of her birthday month flowers....
An Ode to Bill (Bless His Heart) Bill was a man of mystery— or so he liked to say, but mostly he was inconsistent in a very predictable way. He talked a game of depth and truth, of feelings bold and rare, then vanished like a Wi-Fi signal when things got slightly there . He’d circle back with casual charm, as if no time had passed— like, “Hey, what’s up?”—sir, what’s up is you fumbled. Hard. And fast. I used to try to understand, to decode his every move, but clarity arrived one day: he simply couldn’t… groove . Not to rhythm, not to growth, not to anything real— just vibing in confusion like that was some big deal. Meanwhile, I got lighter, cut my hair, reclaimed my space— turns out peace looks really good when it’s sitting on my face. So here’s to Bill, a lesson learned, a chapter closed just right— thank you for the clarity… you are not my type.