When Lady’s wiggly feet refuse to sleep, she tries everything to stop them—until a cozy cup of tea saves the night.

Beneath the Dust: Alexander Black Unearths a High-Tech Horror in Tucson The desert has a way of swallowing secrets, but Alexander Black isn’t letting this one stay buried. For decades, Tucson locals have whispered about the "Manson Tunnels"—a labyrinthine drainage system beneath the city rumored to have housed members of the Manson Family during the late 1960s. To most, it’s a campfire story. To filmmaker Alexander Black, it’s the entry point into a terrifying new frontier of forensic criminology.

Cannabis was crucial for Viking expansion — but not for the reason you might think. Here's what archeologists know.

Home life has never seemed so sweet, at least compared to life inside the PAC. But life also has a way of taking over, for good and bad. His growing hatred of Bennett and his growing crush on Carrie. Now with a new moon on the horizon, Danny is going to have an opportunity to face Duhamel at his worst.

With the firing of Marc Eversley and Artūras Karnišovas, it seems the Bulls finally learned their lesson. It's time to rebuild.

They sell online degrees to the public. Then they treat those same degrees as second-class in hiring. So, I graduated and entered the market. Then, I hit a brick wall. I learned the hard way that American higher education has a credibility problem.

this is a piece about what survival can start to cost when it goes on too long. about loving someone while slowly disappearing beside them. about the quiet moments no one talks about, the ones that don’t look like breaking but are. it’s not pretty, not softened. just real. if you’ve ever felt yourself slipping away in silence while someone you love watched and didn’t know how to stop it… this is for you.

The true beauty of the Caribbean lies in the grit, the soul, and the unwavering resilience of its people.

I wrote this from the middle of it— not after healing, not after closure— but while I was still unraveling in real time. This is what it feels like when love starts slipping through your hands and you don’t know if you’re losing them or losing yourself trying to hold on.

I could write a book on just how we met alone. The spinning wheel, on this day, spent on me, and you told Papa I was a goal driven wreath. So I’m here to bring you luck, but this time I left no room. I left no room for no “‘til deaths do us apart” because I ain’t dying too soon.

This wasn’t written from clarity. It was written while I was in the middle of it... trying to figure out what love actually is and what I’ve been calling love just because it stayed. This is me dealing with my own shit. Realizing some things don’t need to be fixed… they need to be ended.

We throw around words like “jealous” every day—but what if we’ve been using it wrong all along? And what if that mistake is shaping how we see people, conflict, and even ourselves?

Something unusual happened in an academic exchange I have been involved in this week. A scholar I have been evaluating read my critique carefully, summarized it accurately, and then chose not to answer it. That is more interesting than if he had simply missed the point.

Studies have shown that 1 out of 5 women are infertile, at the same time 1 out of 4 women have found themselves in toxic relationships, I created this poem to illustrate the sad story of many women out there, This is the story Mrs. Balcom, a fictional character that meets these problems & has the urge to escape them.

This is a biography I did when I started to feel like my relationship with people was useless in a sense.

Content Warning: This poem discusses self-harm and suicidal ideation. Please prioritize your well-being before reading. This piece symbolizes my internal struggle with the desire to give up and the eventual journey toward overcoming it. I hope it resonates with you. <3

This is my most recent poem ! It explores the emotional struggle of silencing one’s own perspective to gain validation from an overwhelming parental figure. It captures the exhausting, submissive, and often lonely experience of sacrificing personal truth to feel recognized. I just hope you guys can relate to it seeing as how close it is to home <3

This writing is reflection of the few days I spent in the psych ward after a phase of overdose. enoy the read.

You view the ocean, you see beauty I see the color of a tear... Depression can alter your vision and desire toward life's beauty while the rest of the world seems to be enjoying.

After suffering for the last two years, my father passed peaceably in his sleep...this is my take on things