reactive abuse
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Satan and his minions always trying to breathe life into old memories that no longer belong to us, to whisper shame and convince us that history is the same as identity. When those familiar reflections come, lay them at the cross. Release the weight that tries to press upon your heart, and learn to laugh… Read more
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I sit with affective empathy in my office and cradle my coffee while lost in a mosaic of fractured reflections from the storm in the mind of the person across the desk from me watching out the slightly open window as a petulant child tugs on the hem of her mother’s patience, and hearing her… Read more
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Today is another day where I am Schrödinger’s cat sitting in the box along with uncertainty, which stems from the weight of possibility that I am both alive and dead simultaneously Hourly I am pinned between the what if, and the never was,a silent empty chair across from me the uninvited guest,the taste of stale… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 