Seeing a story that I’d written a while ago was weird.
A poem about sacrificing yourself so that others may be set free.
A painting symbolic of the worst parts of a person and some thoughts on this.
Some thoughts on what art actually is.
A different way to cook chicken and instructions on how to make it.
Something I thought was nice to live by.
A paradox. To do this is to fail to follow the instruction.
A thing I wrote.