Stitching myself back up after failing to teach him, I thought about how many more times I would have to open up and leave with more scars than I had before. But I can’t fix everyone.

Perhaps in the back of your head, you sense something dangerous about boxing yourself in as an otherized poet. But for now, it doesn't matter because if stories are currency, then trauma is the American dollar.

But there is something to be said for the argument that this fictional ‘Universe’ simply knows us better than we know ourselves. Perhaps the life path that it would lay out for us would be the most fulfilling track for us to follow.

I am tempted to say that I still think of the bearded dragon I briefly purchased from the 2013 Virginia Reptile Expo on Laburnum Ave, but I do not.

I am Simone Herko Felton, city kid, Muni rider, local historian, San Francisco born and raised; and fuck you if you call it “San Fran.” I was forged from the process of exploring my city in all its variety and notorious weirdness.

Our desires for superlative realness are at an all time high. Social media has exposed us to the richest, most beautiful, and most successful. Watching lives that are similar to our own is no longer enough.

I couldn’t help but feel in the darkest part of my heart that the loss of something that once brought me so much joy and security wasn’t worth getting into in the first place. Stitched into me was the belief that no relationship lasts. Ever.

For years, I had always persevered, somehow managing to cover up the pain with a cocktail of smiles and pain-meds. However, in March of 2022, I could no longer keep up the facade and ended up taking medical leave.

“To be human is to be messy and blemished; and, as I am just beginning to grasp, those attributes are signs of a life well lived."