I sat on the phone with my childhood best friend, reminiscing of days past in my hometown just across the bridge from Philadelphia. We laughed about growing up with our small, dysfunctional group of friends: road trips, arguments, car trunks, hanging out in the Burger King parking lot at 2 am after graduation (because what else is there to really do in South Jersey).

“Man, we really were our most genuine selves at seventeen,” he mused.

We were.

At seventeen I was carefree, outspoken, and surrounded by people that understood how I operated. They respected my values, even if they didn’t necessarily agree with them. We were very candid with our words, but there was never any malice or ill-intentions behind them. No matter the disagreements that could’ve pushed others apart, we always found our way back to one another. We were a family trying to find our way through life together. It was with them I was comfortable enough to be my truest self.

But adulthood tends to fuck things up.  Continue reading


#20. Do you push the elevator button more than once?  Do you really believe it makes the elevator faster?

I’m guilty of pushing the elevator button more than once. Maybe it’ll come faster that way. Maybe it’s taking so long because it didn’t register the first time I pushed it. Maybe I’m just impatient. Maybe.. Maybe.

Maybe you’re the elevator. I keep pushing your buttons thinking you’ll hurry up and figure out what’s here waiting for you: a good woman who just wants to be happy with you. Or maybe I’m being overly optimistic. Maybe I need to stop thinking that this time when I push the button the outcome will be different… That you’ll come around.. That you’ll finally open your doors and let me in.

Maybe I should stop, stop trying to rush you, stop holding out hope that you’ll get here when I want you to… or even at all. Maybe I need to realize that regardless of pushing the elevator button once, twice, five times that you’re going to get here on your own time.

Let’s just hope that maybe when you do finally get here I haven’t caught another elevator up.

All I could say was thank you.

He told me he loves me. That he wasn’t expecting that in return.. Just to know that he’ll always be rooting for me.

My response? Thank you.

You would think after 4 years with someone I’d be able to give a more comprehensive reply, but instead I just found myself thinking back on our relationship wondering whether I was ever really in love with him. Continue reading


I started this blog in 2008 not knowing what I wanted to do with it. Could’ve been a music blog.. Could have been a sports one.. Maybe I would have turned into a hipster like everyone else on the internet.. Instead it has become my outlet. Continue reading