Glasses Thicker than an Airplane Window
I’m turning back to this blog for a few reasons. No one wants to read a novel-length Instagram post. Often I catch myself typing full sentences into my phone screen keypad and think “this is too much, I'm oversharing." So I edit the text to be more concise, but it feels cramped. In the end I ditch the whole paragraph for a few hashtags. I don't like how I've trained myself to erase what I really want to say. I don't know when or how I learned it. I want to break the habit I have of saying “I used to be a painter” or “I wanted to be a writer” when in fact I am both. December 2015 I’m at a jewelry store in Belle Vernon with my mom. She brought in three rings to be fixed. They used to be my grandmother’s rings. While we’re there, I ask to get the silver one I wear on my pinkie finger reshaped. It had lost it's roundness. It used to be my mom’s. She also wore it on her pinkie. I used to take it off of her finger when I was a kid and we were in chu
