I’m one of those people who needs to write things down to make them real. I think that’s why I write about love and sadness so much, so I can look them in the face and move forward.

That being said, I’m going to write out the promises that I’m making to myself for 2019. I hate the term “New Year’s Resolution,” I only conjure images of fad diets, full gyms, and “HAH I ALREADY BROKE MY RESOLUTION AND IT’S JANUARY 2” posts.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve made them and broken them as well. But this time, I want to reposition my thought process for them. I want to promise these things to myself as a way to give myself the love that I continually give others. So, here they go.


one: let’s get a budget together and stick to it. I know that it’s hard when you’re in college and don’t have a lot, but there is so much weight in having a budget.

two: save money to buy a home. Abbee and Madden deserve a big backyard and you deserve to get to paint your home whatever color you’d like to, to play your music as loud as you want, to have a true home.

three: read more. I don’t mean on your phone or laptop, I mean physical copies of books. You love to read, don’t forget to do it.

four: cook at home. Girl, this goes along with budgeting. You know you’re an excellent cook, just make an effort to do it more often.

five: keep fresh flowers. There are certain little things in this world that give you hope and flowers are one of those things. You need a little more love in your life, indulge in it.

six: be realistic with your relationship expectations. You don’t want to have meaningless relationships anymore. You are ready to jump back into a real, adult relationship. That doesn’t mean settle for the first person to come along, it means to remind yourself of the characteristics you seek in a partner and put them first. If they aren’t interested in that kind of relationship, move on. Don’t continue to corrode your heart with those who don’t have your best interest at heart. You are worthy of love.

seven: keep that 4.0. You have worked so hard to get to where you are. Keep working, fighting, and believing in your intellect. I know it’s easy to compare yourself to others, but try to be gentle with yourself.

eight: drink more water. It makes your skin glow, come on now.

nine: take new opportunities as they come. You get to start a new job this year! (If you’re reading this and didn’t know, SURPRISE!) I want you to take this opportunity and run with it. You can do this. Not only job opportunities, but every other opportunity, just take it! You can do this, you can do this.

ten: eat breakfast. It’ll help you monitor your energy levels and gets your metabolism where it needs to be.

eleven: do your makeup (almost) every day. Makeup is your passion, you’re good at it and you love it. Don’t be too lazy to use your skills and products. Make Jeffree Star proud.

twelve: yoga. Your friend who happens to be a yoga teacher (Hi, Hales) is coming home, see what she can teach you and take time to love yourself.

thirteen: kick some butt at Pop Culture in Washington, D.C. WOW. I am SO proud of you! Your study got accepted into this amazing conference and you are going to be amazing! All you need to do now is actually do the study. You have time to do this, make sure this is as professional as it can be and make sure you love what you’re studying. You are fantastic.

fourteen: stop biting your nails. Get acrylic nails as often as you can, it’ll help.

fifteen: work out 2x a week. I don’t mean you have to kill yourself in the gym, but make sure you’re taking at least an hour twice a week and 30 minutes every other day to exercise. Better skin, man.

sixteen: buy a washer & dryer. You’re an adult and your friends are tired of you using theirs. (Thanks Ali and Alyx)

seventeen: start writing your poetry book. You’ve always wanted to write a book, why not use your poems? You work hard on them, so let’s get with the program.

eighteen: take a trip or two. Let yourself let go, even if you just drive to Dallas for the weekend. You deserve to relax every once in a while.

nineteen: learn to say “no.” You don’t want to go out? Say no. You don’t want to date someone? Say no. It’s allowed.

twenty: spend as much time with your nephews as you can. They’re one of the reasons you keep breathing. Take the time to let them know how much you love them.

twenty-one (pilots): quit buying useless things. Shopping is fantastic, but don’t be wasteful. It’s not going to fill the holes in your heart, and I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s true. They’re just things. They aren’t love.

twenty-two (jump street): design more. You went to school for this (kind of). You pay for the software. You love to do it. Invest in it.

twenty-three (& me): be the real you. You don’t have to put on a show anymore. Be yourself. I know it’s really hard, I do, but if people don’t love the real you, who are they loving? Plus, it’s exhausting.

twenty-four: do more with To Write Love On Her Arms. Donate more, share more. It helped save your life, help them save more lives.

twenty-five: go to Meow Wolf. Stop talking about it and just go.

twenty-six: get more sleep. Manage your time better so you can get more sleep.

twenty-seven: dance more. Go dancing, it’s your favorite stress relief. You know you miss it.

twenty-eight: get a planner and use it. Your new job will require this, don’t sleep on the benefits.

twenty-nine: go to more concerts. You know City & Colour changed your life, make more of an effort to go to see your favorite artists. Cough, cough, A DAY TO REMEMBER.

thirty: trust the process. Some of your anxiety stems from your inability to do this. Give it a try, I think you’ll be fine.

thirty-one: LOVE YOURSELF. Love the you that you are now as you’re typing this. Love the you that you are in two weeks. Love the sadness, the anger, the desperation, the confusion, and the joy. You’re stuck with you forever, might as well get used to it.


Worship Makers


Screen Shot 2018-12-13 at 12.58.44 PM

My house is a church

Worship is laughter

Communion is the scent of rose with a hint of lonely

Brothers and sisters, come to the fountain of youth!

For we are young when we we allow ourselves our childish pleasures of animated movies and popcorn

Couch forts and slumber parties

Giggling in darkness

We are the new millennium, we are the triumphant

Our holy text is the light of a small screen

Our confession is salted with tequila and lime and 3 am

Our penance is the rawness of real emotion shared between those who haven’t acknowledged the burning camp of pain in their esophagus

Our saints are fingers adored in sterling silver, holding our hair as we expel our demons

Our pews are bed frames

The cross we bear is that of worth being defined by sexuality

Forgiveness is the broken back of the camel, slowly dragging us home and humming love songs

My home is a church

And you are welcome here



And Now

autumn moments


**I’m going to post a trigger warning here: This is how I feel 85% of the time. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written in my life. I want to share this with you guys because I love you. In the deepest, the darkest, lightest, brightest times, I love you guys. I wanted to share with you the real struggles I have with my eating disorder and my mental illnesses. I don’t want to scare you, I don’t want to make you think that you’ve done something to me. This is the most honest, raw thing I’ve ever written. Please be gentle with me, and with yourself. **

When I look in the mirror in the morning, I don’t see “fat.” I see the body that I’ve lived with my whole life. To be honest with you, I don’t even see my body. The first thing that I see in the morning is the color of my own eyes- they’re a pretty blue/green. Sometimes they’re gray, like on days like today, when I can’t seem to get out of my head. The next thing I see is my hair. My hair is my baby, I’m always making sure that my hair is looking the appropriate mixture of curly, messy, and presentable- it’s my signature. As I continue to stare in my dirty ass mirror (I should clean that, I know) I look at the rest of my face- my freckles, my lips, my nose. Never once do I think “look at how fat I am.” Those thoughts come later. 

I start my morning with a cup of hot tea as I sit in my window and do my makeup. Makeup is art, whether you want to believe it or not. Makeup can transform me from daytime professional to a alternative hardcore girl in the span of 10 minutes- I have many faces, and makeup helps me discover and maintain those faces. I don’t start my morning out hating myself. In the morning, in the sunlight, I love myself. I praise the temple in which I worship the ground with. I praise every blemish and flaw, because they make me feel like an actual fucking human, not a figment of my imagination. With my mental illnesses, I tend to disassociate and feel like I don’t exist- the reality of having a body makes me understand that I. am. here. I. have. a. pulse. I’m alive.

I get dressed every morning by this philosophy – do I look like the woman I am on the inside? Working in a professional setting makes this a little challenging if you have body modifications like I do, but I make sure to blend in pieces that make me feel like *Tessa.* I wear a lot of black, mostly because I love the contrast between black clothing, light hair, and blue eyes. I like looking at myself and seeing a masterpiece, which is what I am.

I go to work, I do my job, I go to school, I do my work. I get on Tinder/Bumble/Plenty of Fish/Tumblr, rarely anyone talks to me; I enjoy the silence. Or, they do and it’s completely inappropriate – PSA NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR PENIS. Or, here’s the catch, they do talk to me and they say one of the following: “I don’t like big girls, but you’re cute,” “I’ve always wanted to be with a big girl,” “I don’t care about anything but the inside.” I know what you’re thinking, “Tessa, what do you expect online?” Well, reader, I expect to be treated like a human. Like a living, breathing human. 

You see, I don’t see fat until later. Later, when the world has beat the shit out of me for solely the way I look. When the world has dismissed me, turned me down, told me I was unworthy to date anyone- when the world forgot that I am skin and bones and blood- then, I see fat. Not only do I see fat, fat is the only thing I see for weeks on weeks. When I look at food, all I see is the pain that I feel whenever someone I really liked, someone who talked to me and told me that they felt the connection too, walks out of a date before it even starts. All I see in food is the way that I want to throw up my insides whenever I see it, just to remodel the temple to make room for the priest. All I see is numbers and figures and scales and the reason that my ex decided that he didn’t care to look at me anymore. All I see is the messages that no one sees from people I just block, the constant harassment of the eyes of other women, the assumptions that plague me every day. And so, I don’t eat. And if I do, the feeling of guilt eats me alive. “Tessa, you wouldn’t feel that way if you ate healthy food,” I’m sure you’re saying. I wish that were true. You see, when I eat salad, I still feel as it’s too much. Everything is too much. Breathing in creates space in my diaphragm that I would rather fill with tequila than anything else.

I don’t feel fat until later. Later, after I’ve had sex with someone for the first time. I want to lay naked, enjoy the natural form of the human body. Until I look next to me and trace the track marks of the smaller girls that he has slept with and realize that I could never be enough to fill his veins with want. Never me. So, I turn over and I sob until I fall asleep, and that is better than eating. Tears have no carbs, no calories, no saturated fats. Tears have nothing, yet they weigh so much.

I don’t feel fat until later. Later, after I’ve watched videos of people telling me how much “better” they are now that they’re skinny, how much “easier” it is to date someone, to find someone to look you in the face and validate your existence- I feel fat. I feel it suffocating me, just like the thoughts of never finding anyone to love me, suffocate me. It’s like a disease telling me when and where and how and the only way that I can be cared for.

I’ve never cared about being “fat.” I’ve always cared more about how I treated others- do I love them compassionately, do I truly listen to them, do I do the best I possible can to make sure that they’re safe and feel loved? I never cared about being “fat” until my mother told me that I could never be loved because I’m a disgusting, fat, ugly pig. I never cared about food until it wasn’t food anymore, it was a mathematical calculation of how long it would take for someone to look me in the eyes long enough to know that I am a living, breathing, human.

I still calculate food as hatred.

People tell me that I’m the most loving person they’ve ever met. I don’t understand how I can be when I don’t feel anything anymore. I’ve wanted to be loved for so very long. I’ve wanted to be SEEN for so very long, and yet, every energy I place in the world has come back to me hardened. I am so tired. It is so very easy to placate a feeling, a thought, an emotion- many things are easy. I’ve been taught my whole life that my tax of being a person is to “fit.” When I say fit, I mean blend; when I say, blend, I mean, don’t take up too much space. When I say don’t take up too much space, I mean, stop eating. Period. Stop believing that your mass will not be created nor destroyed because we will never recognize your mass as quantity because you are not quality.

So, here’s the thing. When I become so fragile that my bones look like a creaking structure of the temple, would you date me then? When my cheeks are so gaunt, will you remember that I once smiled in the mornings, in the sunlight? When my freckles look more like demon bruises, will you see that as a sign of worthiness? When I have no life left in my soul, will you remind me “well, at least you aren’t fat anymore!” When I have nothing left to give the world, no more sunshine, love, happiness, light.. when I have nothing left to give you besides the physicality of my empty stomach,

will you date me then?





Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and so is the encroaching sadness that the single population often feel. Instead of letting the bitterness of loneliness turn me into someone that I’m really not, I wrote this piece about all the great loves of my life. If you think you’re in this, you probably are.

This is a piece about acknowledging a person you were involved with and what purpose they served in the season of your life they were in.



One, you were the one for me. Sweetly 16, chocolate rocks and a satin couch began the bloom of my first love. You were outgoing and shy, all in one body. They’ve told you since you were born that you had a bad heart, but from where I sat, you could never have a malicious muscle in your perfectly pubescent body. You were my very best friend- hours and hours on the phone were spent in laughter. Your parents sure did hate me, even though you still deny that to this day. We lasted a long time, longer than those that would follow you. I think we lasted because you are an actual representation of joy- you hoped and believed that we were meant for the brightest moments. I was the one who ruined everything- I was young and irrational, albeit emotionally stunted from the lack of visible healthy relationships in my life. No excuses could ever make me feel better about losing your friendship and your companionship. We reconnected later and I realized that you were still in love with someone else, someone you’ll marry now. I couldn’t be happier for you. You showed me how to love someone to the point of making myself homesick for a heartbeat. 


Two, you were what they call my “high school sweetheart.” I think we ended up breaking up and dating like, three times. High school was hard for everyone, and we were no exception. This was when I started to make questionable decisions- decisions that I thought were something that everyone was doing, and you did as well. The last time we were together, we discovered our passion for lunchables in the back of the local grocery store, headbanging on the way to your house, and frustrating each other to the end of time. You taught me that I was better than anyone had told me I could ever be. You loved me with red hair, sometimes I dye it back just to taste a little bit of us one more time. You showed me that there was more out there for me.


Three, everyone saw the chemistry. The chemistry that we created since we met in the 6th grade. You always made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, I drove to see you in the middle of the windy West Texas nights.  I used to think that someone like you could never be with someone like me, and then I went to college. We started dating and I saw you every weekend I could get away from school- you moved to work in the oil field. I drove to see you at your sisters house, we spent our time wisely and efficiently. I missed you when you were gone, we used webcams to make ourselves believe that somehow, the electricity between computers could conduct into us. You drove to surprise me with an orchid for Valentine’s Day, it died just like we did. You were lost and you couldn’t tell me. I was lonely and couldn’t stop telling you. I got so many beautiful things out of us, three. My best friend came from us. My sense of self came from us. I still miss your friendship. I heard you’re thinking about marrying your person, I hope you do. You deserve happiness, just like that orchid deserved the sunlight.


Four, you were my great adventure. You were the first person I met on Tinder that I didn’t absolutely hate. You quoted The Office and showed me your soft side and I was hooked. We first met at a wedding, two hours from home for me and about nine for you. That first night, I met all of the people that were the most important to your younger years- I came to love those people. I still love those people so dearly, thank you for sharing them with me. We saw each other monthly, we talked every night. We didn’t realize the weight of the distance, the weight of our age difference. You let me become a part of your family, a family who still loves me and cherishes me to this day- thank you for the amazing gift of the family I never deserved. You left the day after my best friend’s wedding, never to come back. You called me “baby” as you deconstructed my plans for the future and my heart. Looking back now, I know you never wanted to hurt me. You cried the whole time, you got in your car and I just stood at my door, hoping that you would run back to me and tell me that you loved me. You didn’t. You looked at me through the window of that Xterra, you waved goodbye, and backed out. I wanted to run after you, scream how sorry i was, tell you how much I never deserved you. I went to work and got sent home because, well, I realized that the love of my life was gone.I still miss you. You’re married and you have a beautiful family- I am so overjoyed for you. If there was ever someone who taught me how to love every single part of myself, it was you. Four, you were the one who got away.


   Five, you were too pure for me. I met you on accident, you were in town to visit your family and didn’t intend on matching with anyone. Instead, you got me. We were never right for each other, everything was too different. I wanted to be touched, you had never touched someone without feeling out of place. I couldn’t understand. We laughed, we listened to the most beautiful music,= I still have a playlist named after you. When we realized that we were not realistic, we sat on my couch and cried through goodbye. Whenever I see owls, I think of you. Brand New makes me miss you. You taught me about the wrong timing, and the right person.


 Six, you unleashed total hell into my life. We met because you were pressured into a dating app. You met me by happenstance and grabbed me with your love for hot tea. See, you were just like me. You were broken, different, and just attractive enough to squeak by in this harsh world. I loved the simplicity that you offered me. You let me move in with you when I was lost, and I the same to you. At the end, I had nothing good to say about you. I still barely do. But, I have to acknowledge that you made me understand that who I am, who I was, and who I will become will always be too much for you. I will always not miss you. I will always remember what you did for me in the hard parts of my life, I will always remember the busted windshield and the ripping apart of my mental illnesses. I will always remember that you are too devoid of emotion to be with someone like me. 


Seven, you were my punk-rock fantasy. You see, we met long ago and I was horrible to you. No excuses, I was a horrible person to you. We reconnected on accident and we began to poison each other immediately. To the naked eye, we were perfect. We were meant to be together long-term. The problems started small, disagreeing on the choices I made with my body- then they progressed. We ignored it all, because we both believe in a beautiful destiny. I came to see you, the first time I’d boarded a plane for a boy. We had so much fun, but I was unsettled. In the end, I had to do something that I am not proud of- I had to email my explanation for cutting it off. We just kept going in circles, we couldn’t just.. let it go. I will remember the beautiful places you blessed me with. I will remember Pierce the Veil and the bay, getting way too wine drunk when you left me alone in a bar, City and Colour and the blisters on my feet. You taught me that my romanticism is not always realism; you taught me that the heart, ultimately, wants what it wants. You’ve since blocked me, I wish you wouldn’t have, but I understand that I belong in the shadow box of your life.

One through Seven, you are not just numbers. You shaped my life in ways I never imagined. Thank you for breaking and building the castle of heart, and creating the moat. I loved you all for everything I wasn’t, I hope you can find it in your heart to see that we are all a work in progress. Thank you for being the easel, paintbrushes, and vibrant colors that helped create the masterpiece behind this keyboard. 




Castle Creator

Merry (1)


I want you to know that beauty is not the currency in which you have to live your life to earn, that your heart is much more of the keeper of things long lasting, I want to remind you that being alone is not always lonely, that lonely is not always the brick you have to come home to rebuild daily. Lonely can be a castle that you lay way to, with room enough for all of your beautiful memories to take shelter in. Lonely can be hot tea, warm blanket, wrapped up in your self-awareness. Alone does not have to be a long hallway with only one door at the end- alone is a hedge maze, with roses and daisies and magic helping you float toward loving the only person who continually forgives you.  The bones that support the moments when you feel like your skin could crawl off your body, leaving you muscle-exposed, red raw- these bones make are the structure to keep you upright, you don’t have to uptight, you don’t have to be a goddamn thing. I want you to know that stability is not a linear process, peaks and troughs have no dictation over your self-worth. If we were a straight line, roller coasters would cause a heart to pop in our chests, forget the adrenaline, forget the rush, just blood red redemption. I want you to remember the moment your heart began to mold itself back into form, the moment your realized that this does not have to be the end; remember the deepest sigh your lungs were blessed to take in- remember that you are not just anaerobic functioning, but a watercolor wish that just may have come true. You are for someone to cherish, you are for someone to bring sunshine to your veins, you are for appreciation, you are for redemption, you are for loving.

Merry Crisis



I wanted to write something uplifting today, and then I got to work and realized that I’d have to watch the Hallmark channel all day. The Hallmark Channel famously has Christmas movies on repeat, AM to PM, PM to AM until Christmas. As a single little fish in the big ol’ holiday season sea, it can get to you.

Not to mention that this season has been coined “cuffing season” by our generation. What is cuffing season, you ask? According to Urban Dictionary, cuffing season is best described as “.. during Fall and Winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be “Cuffed” or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be “cuffed“.”

So, in essence, this tends to make people (aka me) worry about any potential suitor coming around, because what if he’s just lonely? What if I’m convenient? Pretty much, holidays alone suck. BUT here is a definitive list of things I’m going to do this season to keep my mind off of the fact that I don’t have someone to bring to holiday events.


You are not defined by having a significant other. You are more than enough on your own. Love is wonderful, but you can love yourself just as much, possibly more, than you love another person. You’re loved as hell- don’t forget it


  1. Do a holiday-ish thing alone. The other day, I went to drive and look at Christmas lights alone. At 3 am. It was refreshing because I could drive as slow as I wanted, stop when I wanted, and listen to heavy metal Christmas songs while doing so. These are a few of my favorite things.
  2. Decorate for Christmas. I know this one sounds like I’m crazy and I’m just trying to be alone, but here are the facts. I love the Christmas spirit. I love the lights and the ornaments. I’ve never really gotten to have a CHRISTMAS in the traditional sense with the family and all that jazz, so I’m pretty used to being alone. But now that I live alone, I’m so so happy to be able to decorate my apartment to its full Christmas potential without someone making snide comments about my doing so. The creativity that I get to experience while I’m decorating is something I place high value on. I am the most beautiful when I am creating.
  3. Snuggle with yourself. I don’t know how we;’e gotten to the space in the blog where I sound like I absolutely have no life, but here we are. There is something so therapeutic about being snuggled up in sweats, burrito-d in a blanket, drinking hot tea, watching Bob’s Burgers. Giving yourself the space you need to be alone and be comforted by your own presence is vital. You are allowed to take up space in your life- in the world! You are allowed to feel warm and taken care of, even alone. 
  4. Grab a friend. If you guys know me well, you know that I am so incredibly blessed to be surrounded with the most loving, crazy, gracious friend group that somehow still like me after all these years. (y’all are the loml) So, whenever I’m feeling the holiday blues, I just shoot one of my friends a text and ask them to do something with me. That something can be going for a walk, getting a coffee, sitting around and bitching about work, whatever you want it to be.
  5. Do something for others. Now, I’m no Mother Teresa. I suffer from the human condition, which happens to be selfishness. I try to be less selfish in this season and let people know that they are loved immensely. This year, I made custom-drawn (they look like a 3 year old did them) Christmas cards with things that helped each person with their mental illness/when they felt stressed. That isn’t much, but it’s what I can do. If you can’t have a romantic love, you can have a love for others and use my heart to display that to them. I encourage you to donate your time, as well. There are plenty of places and services that could use you- check out your local food bank, organize a coat drive, work in a soup kitchen, volunteer your time in any way you can.
  6. Distract yourself. I can’t tell you how many times I have rearranged my apartment in the last month, how many times I’ve painted and pampered and pondered and read and taken baths and a whole lot of other run-on sentence things. At this point in the holiday, I’m just distracting myself from the fact that I’m alone- and I’ll tell you, it hasn’t been anything close to bad. I’ve learned a lot about myself. Changing your room around can make you feel like a new woman (or man.)
  7. Accept the fact that you’re alone. Now, this sounds morbid, but I really don’t mean it that way. You’re alone on a holiday. You aren’t married, you don’t have any prospects, you have a prospect but you’re taking it slow and inviting them to Christmas parties may scare them off, (COUGH ME) whatever it is, you’re alone, sweet friend. That’s okay. Honestly, you’re saving money by not having to buy extra gifts. (KIDDING BUT NOT REALLY) Here’s the thing about being alone, you don’t really have anyone to worry about but yourself, your feelings, and your moments. It’s so easy to get distracted with all the gifts, lights, food, etc of Christmas. At the center of all of that, there are people that you love; whether that be family, friends, a pet, whatever- this is a season of love. This is the season that people actually step outside of themselves (some people) and see that there are people who may not have what they do. This is the season of engagements and baby announcements, of mistletoe and magic. Just because something isn’t happening to you doesn’t mean that you can’t be happy for whoever it is happening to. Don’t choose to be bitter. 
  8. Finally, take a deep breath. This is just two months out of the year- you can do anything for 60 days, I promise. Time will move along and you will come to a new day and you won’t feel so alone anymore. Don’t get caught up in all the things you don’t have. Don’t let Hallmark movies, sappy Facebook posts, and engagement Instas make your heart hard this season. All of these things have a time and a purpose. Just focus on what you do have. You’re breathing! You’re alive! You can drink wine/whiskey/tequila/baileys/sweet tea/eggnog/what the hell ever you need to get through this! And most of all, you have someone on the other side of this screen that may not know you, but values your existence. You were made with magic.



Love and light, 



Diamond Pair




Just a little bit of poetry on this beautiful fall day- love & light, tess


with melodic symphony symmetry,

the diamond pair was formed

the fall foliage and gentle kiss of wind were the perfect canvas to glow

the glow of golden hearts, that is

breath stolen, fire breathing, electric chill changes

sunshine sprinting between blinds, barreling on to eyelashes, dipping into Bahama blue water eyes

golden fleck

highlight and glimmer

pigmented absence

the diamond pair tumbled into a world of their own

and impossible became impassible

and infallible became incandescent

and stone was grown into pebble

dream-like drowsy, the diamond pair

dream-like drowning, the diamond pair

biting the chilling wind, stars dripping in lipstick

blushing heat, heaven fiber for the diamond pair

heartbeat havana, smoke it if you’ve got it

hand running rapid, cold cloud exhale

lonely solid sheets for our favorite diamond pair

and where does the diamond pair dive gracefully from there?

The Young and the Selfish


the young and the selfish

I know I’ve been gone for quite a while; sometimes, it’s hard to write the things I feel because they’re just overwhelming. Being a highly emotive person with a few cute lil’ mental illnesses, sometimes I just can’t bring myself to do the smallest things- like write, or clean, or speak. (which, I know, you’re thinking must be a miracle)

You guys know I don’t write bullshit articles about “How To Get Your Crush to Pay Attention to You for Two Weeks and Then Ghost You,” or “You Can’t Take the ‘Fuck’ Out of ‘Fuckboy.'” I really pride myself on being *somewhat* original in my content, but today may be a little, as they say, basic.

I’ve always been told that love is sacrificial. That if you love someone, you sacrifice all the pieces of yourself that may be unfavorable to your significant other, or you at least try to do so. I’ve always been told that if a man loves you enough, he’ll sacrifice Sunday football, Saturday with the boys, etc, just to spend time with you when you’re feeling under the weather. On the inverse side, in the area that I live in, it’s pretty common for women to sacrifice their hopes and dreams to stay home to cook, clean, and “serve” their significant other. WHICH IS COOL, but not everyone should be held to such standard.

There are certain fundamental wants/needs in a romantic relationship that I consider non-negotiable. This list includes a love of animals, a healthy relationship with my best friend, a desire to get married AT SOME POINT, and lastly, the want to have a family. Now, I have been told that I am unable to have children naturally, (which, miracles happen, so crossing my fingers!) so the familial structure that I will more than likely have to yield will either be a surrogate or adoption. That being said, these are things that I am called to have. I am called to be a lover of animals, to be a solid and long lasting part of my best friends life, to grow and change with my significant other, and to care for children.

How do I know that I was called to do these things? I think the easiest way to equate the answer to that is this- remember the first time you saw something absolutely breathtaking? How you felt like you’d never seen the world before that very moment? It literally feels like your heart is going to explode- you’re awestruck in the absolutely terrifying, amazing beauty that God created. When it feels like this view, this moment was created specifically for you? That is how I feel about all of my non-negotiable needs; like I was born to love and care for people, that I was placed here to ensure that people feel as important as they are. That, my sweet friends, is how I know. Not everyone has the same feelings about my needs, which is completely okay. We were all placed here to feel passion and longing for something- whether that be painting a masterpiece or writing a song, there is something placed inside of you that is food for your soul.

Being the age that I am (24) in the place that I live, (Bible Belt South) I feel a pressure to be married. It isn’t uncommon for couples in this area to be married at 18 with children by 20- which is awesome, go you for finding your person. However, as I’ve gotten older, the pressure has taken a toll on my dating life (or lack, thereof.) I’ve realized that I began to settle and compromise my non-negotiables, just because I feel like a spinster in this area. I have friends who have beautiful families, marriages, houses, careers, cars.. and I consistently feel like I’m lagging behind- like there’s something I’m doing wrong. With that pressure comes the constant feeling of loneliness and self-doubt.

For a long time, I just believed that love was sacrificial.

We’re told that love is never selfish. I have to disagree.

There is a love before you find your forever person that is a vital love- the love for yourself. I hate the cliche bullshit that tells you that you have to love yourself before you love someone else- personally, I hate myself 89% of the time, but I have a ferocious love for others, so strong that I can’t even describe it. BUT– there is a time in your life when selfishness and loving yourself need to come first, and that time is before you meet your forever person. I have been compromising for 5 years. I’ve dated boys (obviously not men, but those are different stories) that never wanted to get married, never wanted kids, didn’t love animals, weren’t compassionate, hated Alyx.. I’ve dated all the wrong people, let’s just go with that.

I forgot my own rules- who does that? 

It starts off easy and fun, like hanging out with your best friend. Then, you start spending all your time together, you talk about deep issues, you decide to date. They make a comment about not wanting to get married – red flag. I can compromise, you say. I don’t want kids, they say – red flag. I can compromise, you say. Time goes on, you start to feel unfulfilled. You talk about it. They never change. So, here you am, finding yourself in a situation when you feel obligated to sacrifice something that you’ve wanted my whole life for someone that doesn’t meet up with your non-negotiables.


When we ignore these red flags, we are being detrimental to ourselves and to the other person. We’re wasting our time on someone who doesn’t want the same things that we do- and they’re wasting their time on someone who will never be truly fulfilled with them.

I believe that none of us truly, deep down want to cause another person pain. I don’t believe that we have an innate need to break each other’s hearts. Sometimes we do it by accident, sometimes on purpose- we’re fueled by hurt.

 Hurt people hurt people.

It takes a long time to realize and accept that your sacrificial nature can hurt others, but sometimes being sacrificial is also lying to yourself and others. I don’t want to hurt or be hurt anymore, so I choose to be selfish.

I’m done compromising my whole life for someone who will probably date me for a year and then never speak to me again. I’m tired of being heartbroken of the reality, tired of unintentionally hurting people.

This is a time to be selfish. 

This is when love is not sacrificial- love is selfish.

There are so many definitions of love, but this particular love is selfish.

This is long-term love.

This is self love.

This is self care.

This is complete self.

And that is perfectly, selfishly lovely.

Negative on Positive

Today I did something that I didn’t think I would be able to do for months- today, I accepted the fact that some people will never change. 

In my past relationship, I was not perfect; actually, I was nowhere even minutely close to perfect. I have anger issues, I regularly deal with depression, anxiety, and OCD tendencies. (Yes, these have been diagnosed by a doctor, so fuck off with your theories.) I know that at parts in my past relationship, I was not always fair. I was not always compassionate, I was not always loving. I know that I said things I did not mean, did things that I should not have, and was not the best I could have been. However, I did not cheat on my significant other, nor would I ever have done that; herein lies the complete and total breakdown of the saying “people never change.”

I remember sitting at Outback with you. You ordered Jameson and some wings, two of your favorite things. It was a regular date night, that is, until you told me that you had cheated on every girlfriend you have had. At that point, I should have ended things, but I loved you. You shrugged it off like it was nothing as I told you that if you cheated on me, you would never see me or hear from me again. You swore that if you started having temptations or thoughts, you would tell me. Well, newsflash, people never change.

I remember defending you going out all the time, just saying that you liked being away from me since we lived together. I should have ended it the first night you didn’t come home- St. Patrick’s Day, in fact. You told me that I had known about the party and just never listened to you. I know for a damn fact you never told me about that party, but I let you tell me what I did and did not know.

Finally, I woke up alone in the bed we had shared for almost a year and a half. I got ready for work. I walked into the living room, you were asleep on the couch with your phone in your hand. I hadn’t seen you in days, it felt like. At this point, we were drifting. The night before, I had went out, but came home early so that I could spend time with you. I fell asleep waiting for you. I should have ended it then. I went to wake you up so you could sleep in bed vs the couch, your phone was in your hand, illuminated. I went to plug your phone in by the bed. And then I saw it. Something that I have tried to bleach out of my brain for the past two months, something that makes me sick to my stomach to think about- the very graphic text to a girl I told you I didn’t feel comfortable with, telling her that you had a great time with her last night. That the sex was great, and you couldn’t wait to do that again.

I remember feeling my heart physically break in my chest. I remember it so well because I haven’t stop feeling the shrapnel from it since that day. I continued to pour through your phone (something I am not proud of, by any means.) I found 5 different girls. 5 girls who were getting parts of you that I was not, all while I sat up waiting for you to come home and pay me 5 minutes of attention. I should’ve ended it there.

I have never been so hurt, so sick, so fucking pissed off, so broken in my entire life. Not when my mother told me she never loved me, not when the person I was engaged to hit me, not when I found out that I couldn’t have children.. never. But I let you have that power over me and you are not even worth the effort to type out the things you did to me. 

We had a home together. While it may not have felt like home to you, it was everything to me. I worked hard to make sure that our lives would work and yet, that wasn’t enough. All of my life, I’ve heard people talk about how “love conquers all” and “love can fix anything.” That is bullshit. The love I had for you never conquered your narcissism- how quick you were to tell me all of the things that were wrong with me. It never conquered your excuses- there is no excuse for hurting someone. It never conquered your choice to have sex with a random girl instead of coming home to have sex with the woman you had built a home with- but we both know that you are not a man that is worthy of a woman so beautifully broken as I. You brought a dark cloud to the paradise that I had been living in for so long, you brought negative to a positive.

I continued to let you hurt me and string me along. After you moved out, you helped me with some of my moving expenses- thank you for the obligatory compassion you showed me. You are trying to buy me out of my emotions and that will never happen.

What you did was fucked up in so many ways. I was nowhere near perfect, but I bled my fingers raw for you. I cooked for you, cleaned for you, payed bills, helped you take care of your mom. I washed clothes for you, I cared for you, I made you gifts for EVERY holiday and you never once gave me a single thing. Most of all, I loved you more than I thought was possible. You told me that I was “the real deal.” I am.

So, today I decided that it is time for you to go. It is time for you, and everyone who works at that godforsaken store, to go. You do not deserve a place in my life anymore, and I don’t believe you ever did.

I loved you so much. Thank you for teaching me that what I put into people will not be wrong for the right person. I hope you find happiness and purpose in your life, but I also hope you find pain, frustration, and guilt. 

The Flame and the Fat Girl

As most of you know, the mobile app Tinder is somewhat of a phenomena within the millennial generation (excuse me while I puke in using that term). For those of you who don’t know, Tinder is labeled as a “dating” app. If you’re a Tinder user, you know for a fact that the last thing that most of the people on Tinder are looking for is anything long-term.


I’m not saying that there isn’t one person that’s on there looking for a relationship… but the statistics that CEO Sean Rad has given to sites like Bustle are pretty unbelievable to anyone who has a brain. According to Rad, 80% of users are looking for a long term relationship. Maybe it’s the area that I live in, surrounded by two universities and many community colleges; maybe it’s the fact that the marriage age has increased in the last few years. It could be because everyone is an asshole, who knows? What I do know is that Tinder when you’re a fat girl is vastly different terrain. How is it different? Let me count the ways. Side note: If you don’t like things in numbered lists.. you don’t have to read.

  1. What You Have to Disclose In Your Profile/Conversations
    1. You’ll see below what my profile looks like. A picture that makes me look like I’m the grand duchess of hot fat girls, typical. But you’ll notice that the next picture I have is a full body picture of myself. Not only that, but in description, I have “chunky, yet funky, which means I’m plus size.” This is to just let boys (you aren’t a man until you prove such to me) know that I am not skinny. I am plus size, a big girl, chunky but funky, a fat girl, a fatass.. all the horrible things you could call me. I do this to protect myself from being harassed. If I don’t put these in my description, apparently no one can use their damn eyes and can’t see that I am not said skinny woman. (WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND I LOVE YOU ALL THE SAME, NO MATTER WHAT) My best friend in the world told me that she “warns” boys, telling them she’s chunky. What the fuck?
    2. I changed my featured image to the picture below of me in a bikini – my percentage of matches went down 43% in one week. 43%. That’s insane. I have a sweet, sweet friend that told me that I was just “weeding out the little bitches who can’t deal with a real woman.” In my mind, I was just being my true self. Someone who isn’t afraid of who or how she is; this choice was something that we’re all afraid of. What if no one likes me? What if no one thinks I’m attractive? As my matches all but stopped, I began to realize that even I, someone who doesn’t give a shit what people think, was guilty of worrying about this.


  2. Serial Swipers/Unmatch Response 
    1. So, there are people so deemed “serial swipers,” which don’t look at anyone, they just swipe through to see what they can get. I will admit, I have been guilty of the serial swipe, once or a lot. I understand the math behind it. Now, what happens with these serial swipers is this: I hear the Tinder chime on my phone, the screen reads “Congrats! You have a new match!” I think “cool, here we go.” I open the app and there is either A) no visible match or B) they smoothly disappear from my match cache in a matter of seconds. They have unmatched me- this happens at least twice a day. Which is cool. Preferences are everyone’s right, I get that. But also.. don’t make me think I’ve somehow bagged a 12 when I’m a very blatant 10, come on now. 
  3. Fetish Finders/Chubby Chasers/ Etc
    1. Okay, so here’s my issue. I am a person. A nice person that is pretty accepting of others, even if what they like it strange. But I am not a fetish, I am not something to “chubby chase,” I am not a fantasy, or something to pity. I get messages from boys, suggesting horribly disgusting sexual acts that they’d like to perform on me because “I like fat girls,” “more cushion for the pushin’,” or because “no one likes fat girls, I might as well do you a favor and f**k you.”
    2. OKAY BYE. I am totally disgusted by you and will be unmatching you because I AM A PERSON WHO DESERVES LOVE AND RESPECT.
  4. Match for Torture
    1. This happens more than I would like to admit. If you know me, you know how hurt I am when people make blows to my character. You can call me fat all day, but if you tell me that I’m a b**ch, have a horrible heart, that I’m stupid, things like that.. I will cry. I’m not afraid to cry, it’s who I am. I’ve been told how stupid I am for loving who I am. Stupid for “letting yourself get so fucking fat and gross.”
    2. These garbage boys match me to make fun of me (are we 12?) Not only are they the first to throw stones at my looks, whatever, but they like to tell me that I should just kill myself. I’ve had every comment from “eat a salad” to “fat bitch, I hope you burn in hell because you’re so fucking disgusting,” and everything in between. I just have a question for our match for torture males- who hurt you? Who made your life so miserable that you need to hurt someone you’ve never met? If you are reading this and this describes you, please do us a favor and go to a counselor. They will help you, I promise. I go, as well.
  5. The Golden Pony 
    1. As many horrible experiences as I’ve had with boys on Tinder, I’ve also found people that I’ve come to love on a deeper level than I could even begin to understand. In fact, my two most recent exes are from the Tinder-sphere. I loved both Wes and Nathan more than I knew how to understand. 
    2. There’s just something about texting someone, talking to them on a deep level before you meet face-to-face. Our brains and hearts are wicked adversaries; they love to act on things like lust, primal instinct, and judgement. While our souls are more likely to actively listen to someone’s personality, their passions, interests, things like that. Our souls connect on a deeper level than our eyes ever could. 

With all of this being said, you’re probably wondering.. “Tessa, why the hell are you on Tinder?”

The simple answer doesn’t exist. We’re on Tinder because we’re lonely, we don’t have time outside of work to meet someone, we like the attention, we want to increase our dating pool, but most of all, we just want someone to prove us wrong.