Some people dream…..
…. normal dreams.
Like being married to your celebrity crush or
Winning jackpot lotteries.
I dream regularly
of holding my own book in my hands
Laying my palm on the cover
Shuffling through pages upon pages with the gentleness of my own thumb
caressing the spine with magic in my fingertips.
No big movie stars.
No crowds of people.
No interviewers
No fame.
Just me and my book.
And that’s as simple as it gets.


They say
if you stare at your own reflection for too long.
It can be difficult to separate your skin to a stretched out, squeaking plastic.
They say
if you stare at your own photograph for too long.
Your eyes turn into nothing but reflections in a glass
That your hair turns into
unravelled spools of thread
releasing heartbreak, pain, and worry into the air that doesn’t stop from choking you.
I say.
Stare a little longer.
Because I believe
that if you look at yourself for long enough,
you can find the love that’s suffocated in a blanket of insecurity
You can release the anger you have toward yourself everyday.
So feel free
to rendezvous with yourself some day.
Introduce you to yourself.
Say your name enough times to pass through the stage of losing it’s meaning
So you can reach the part where it waves off of your tongue like a beautiful lullaby.
Tell yourself what makes you beautiful.
The curve of your nose, the freckles on your face.
Your less-than-Victoria-Secret-Angel stomach.
The width of your thighs that scoff at the idea of any type of gap between them
As they beg you to let them kiss every second of every day
Let them fall in love.
or maybe it’s the way your cheat has a beautiful paper-like thinness
For those “I wish I had BOOBS” days that you’ve wasted on yourself.
Maybe it’s the “twig-like” legs you hone.
Love them.
They were meant for you because you look beautiful with them.

They say if you tell yourself you aren’t WORTHY enough times
You start to change.
And you can move past the part where your sadness takes over every second of your life
They say you can move past the part where your darkness becomes your only light.

I say they’re wrong.


Excerpt From my Novel in-progress.

“Angus,” I hesitated to ask. “What do you think night looks like?’ I pretended not to notice his eyes dart in my direction, like a snake within sight of his new prey.
“Well.. I guess it looks like sadness, but in an atmospherical kind of way.”
I tried to stretch my mind to an extent that would give me some sort of hint as to what that could look like. Something like a broken heart sprinkled on top of the sun forcing her to shield her eyes away from the earth. Or maybe it’s more like a stabbing pain that blankets the soil beneath our feet, but disappears right in time for us to wake. Nevertheless, I was curious.
“Listen Geanna,” Angus began, “You’re lucky to be a day dweller.” I kicked the stone that met the tips of my toes as we walked. “We never see night, and they never see day. I propose that you see more lowly scum out of the night dwellers, we’re lucky not to be one of them.”
Was I lucky? Was being a day-dweller passed down to me like a gift of a thousand gold bricks slamming down the staircase of generations? I took a deep breath before I spoke.
“What if there’s happiness in the night?” he looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “What if we just can’t imagine it.”
“We have everything we need here, Geanna.”
“What if we don’t?” I whispered . “Imagination.” he scoffed, “When you’re as privileged as you are to be a day-dweller, you don’t need it.”
I begged to differ, but he would never know.


And above all, love wins.
love always wins.
It wins against heartache
It wins against death.
It wins against any immense force that might sweep you away with a simple flick of their fingers.
Find love in the hardest darkness
and you will certainly win.


I’ve gotten to this sort of
awkward stage in my life.
Where the fear of growing up has been replaced
with the eagerness to be released from this high-school title life this
sea of half bent strangers whose smiles will always be familiar this
hair-pulling, scare tactic for the future.
I’m ready to start my life
with too many things to do
a job I will love
a family I can call my own
I’m ready for



Hi! so.. let me tell you all a story.

So here I was thinking, ‘Alright, enough of this ‘dreaming’ thing; start writing your damn novel!’ I’ve been brainstorming so many different ideas and I have mustered many.. but I always come back to this. WordPress. My ‘diary’ of some sorts where I will be faced with an obstacle and I will write about it. So I’m thinking, I don’t need any guidelines to write. No ’10 Steps to Writing A Novel’ bullcrap is going to give me any satisfaction in writing. So I’m breaking the rules. I’ve decided that I want to write similar to what I do now, but with chapters. I’m not looking for publication, or fame.. but I feel like this idea is so different, so insane, and so ‘not right’ that there must be some right in it. So what do you all think? Storylines and proper plots and conflicts can come later.. because right now I have too many real-life stories that are burning my fingertips. Let me know what you think ☺️

xoxo Spilled Ink


Why Not?

I wonder why life can’t be simple
as to move along like a cloud of dust in the air.
I find myself pondering the idea of banana-pancake Sunday kinda mornings with a nice book
and nowhere to go.
Could you imagine a world without society’s ongoing pressure of
would you do more?
I would.