30 Days of Truth, Day 13

Day 13 — A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

Dear Taylor Swift,

I hate country music. Bone deep, hate it. I work with someone who likes it and I’ve recently been subjected to him singing it, out loud. I’m positive my ears are bleeding while he laughs and makes the most atrocious music, worse.


Once upon a super dark time, I had another coworker/friend that loved you. My home life was in shambles, I was pregnant with the Dumpling, waiting tables at night and farming all day. It wasn’t the easiest times, to say the least.

Never in a million years did I think I’d look back and remember a few of your songs, fondly.

I’d walk in a half hour early to work, to hear him screeching and you screaming alongside him. It put a smile on my face, something I wasn’t able to do myself.

He’d turn it up until we got in trouble for you shaking the walls with the latest heartbreak we all could relate to. I hated him for my being able to silently sing along… but when the shit hit the fan and I was left holding the broken pieces of the bright future I thought I was building…

There you were.

With those same sad songs that tortured me into laughing during some of the scariest, darkest hours of my life.

Thank you… for the late nights I cried over and the early mornings you sang us both awake and laughing. I never thought I’d say it… but I adore you and appreciate the many times you reminded me to sing instead of cry..

xoxo J


30 Days of Truth, Day 12

Day 12 — Something you never get compliments on.

I can be a cold bitch. At the first hint of disloyalty, the vault closes. I don’t forgive or forget. Break my trust, lie to me or stab me in the back, and I become a stranger.

I used to get mad and ranty, now I just do something else. I don’t put myself anywhere I’m uncomfortable and I am very happy alone.

I don’t trust a lot of people and only confide my secrets in one person. For all that I ramble on here, there’s only one soul on the planet who knows the fine print. (Poor girl) I’m an intensely private person and I am much happier sitting in the dirt, pulling weeds than socializing in a bar.

I’m a bit of a hermit and I don’t mind admitting it at all. I’m inclined to retreat from uncomfortable situations and people, indefinitely. I’ve learned to pack up my feelings and walk away instead of throwing emotional hammers, all in the hopes of avoiding wading through the aftermath.

I don’t have patience, time or desire for anything or anyone that I can’t trust. People aren’t generally thrilled about that.

I don’t get a lot of compliments for it. Go figure.