I know this is some bullshit as I sit here to write it, I can feel the pulse of inspiration palpitating below my surface and it will be chaos if it comes out now because there’s no other way than to burst and tear, madness flowing out because someone didn’t take the time for a slow release, for things I have to do, for the care I have to give… all funneled into fixations and endless scrolling for dopamine and the wrong chemical reactions with imbalanced gasses that move like soda bottle tornadoes, like blue wave lucite paperweights hitting an office desk and creating slow but violent fissures, dripping hissing cracks, all making way for this—my inevitable mess.
***
Lauren Theresa (she/her) is a writer, botanical sorceress, and depth psychotherapist living in NJ with her tiny family and myriad of plants. Her musings can be found via IG and Twitter @imlaurentheresa and her publications live at laurentheresa.com.
***
image: Jade Hawk is a meat popsicle.
Rejection Letters 