The Door Was There
A blunt personal essay about suicide as a thought, abandonment, the damage of pushing love away, and alcohol as the cost of not confronting older wounds.
Personal essays, letters, and fragments on love, grief, memory, and ordinary life.
Even adrift, the course may veer, but the heading is strong: toward the self first, then toward the woman still being looked for.
The Door Was There, Afraid of the Dark, Lost Into Silence, A Grave Mistake, Some Lives Sound Made Up, What My Brother Took With Him, Forced Introspection, Nadir, To the Boy Who Learned to Be Strong Too Early, Could It Really Be You?, The Boy Wanted to Camp, Lost but Found, My Traits, My Everything, Building, Not Rebuilding, Still Looking for You, How I Get It on Paper: Symbiotic Disposition Therapy, Across the Universe, With Both Feet on the Ground
A blunt personal essay about suicide as a thought, abandonment, the damage of pushing love away, and alcohol as the cost of not confronting older wounds.
A personal essay about PTSD, sleeplessness, loneliness, and the fear that comes when night strips away the illusion of control.
A personal essay on grief, domestic life, silence, and the sorrow that remains when love has nowhere to go.
A personal essay about becoming an empty nester young, grieving a house that once held fatherhood, and feeling more isolated after moving to Coral Gables.
A first-date story about family tragedy, disbelief, foster care paperwork, and the humiliation of having to prove your own life.
A personal essay about a brother's suicide, the future it stole, and the fear of what grief can do to the living.
A memoir moving between adult collapse and childhood terror, with real coordinates linked to place.
A love letter to the inner child who learned to be strong too early, and to the man now allowed to let people in, receive love, and come home to himself.
A letter written in preparation for dating.
A man drives away from a final fight, crosses storms and elevation, and discovers that sobriety was only the beginning of learning how to protect the boy inside him.
A reflection on love, loss, boundaries, healing, and the painful clarity of choosing yourself while still caring deeply for someone else.
A cerebral, romantic love letter to the traits, contradictions, tenderness, intensity, and dangerous green-eyed magnetism that make a person unforgettable.
Terrorist of Love scares me because it asks me to share myself before I feel fully ready to be seen. But it has also allowed me to discover my own discovery of myself.
After years of silence, survival, shame, and searching, I am writing to you again. Not because I need you to save me, but because I finally know I am worth finding.
There are two ways I get something true onto the page. One explains it. One reveals it. Together, they let me survive the page.
Three months of isolation changed me. I am no longer trying to summon love from emptiness, but becoming the man who can meet it in truth.
Even adrift, the course may veer, but the heading is strong: toward the self first, then toward the woman still being looked for.