Cinnamon Synonyms

[Okay so these are actually song lyrics, so I apologize if the impact is lost in translation] Goodnight sleepy widow Something isn't right The children are gone and the cat lost her sight Collect all your prayers Send them into the night And fall asleep whispering his name I'd love to know if he knows any better Taking his time Up on his cloudy home Patiently watching And you swear you feel his whispers on your skin Now and again With no sign of stopping I'd love to know if it's wrong To look down and pretend That the whispers you feel in the dark Are there just because you believe I'd love to know if all that I love Begins And ends With me

I have taught professionally for four months. I possess more money than I ever knew existed. I am friends with many adults above the age of 30. I call them by their first names. I go weeks without hanging out with friends and am okay with it. I miss my parents. I sometimes have to deal with interpersonal conflicts with students that cause me extreme levels of anxiety. I try not to let it show. My best friend is my coworker who is married and has children and tells me in kind terms to stop being a little pansy and love my job when students make me not love it. My problems are my own, which is isolating. Everyone around me is supportive, which is less so. Eight more months before I've done it all once. Eight more months until my second year. I think a lot about how okay I am with a typical life. I feel like I matter a lot less, which is a weight off my shoulders. I should call my grandparents. When I do, they sound like they are about to cry. Every time. I th

Cinnamon . synonyms . Sin Amen . Singed Ramen .  Sing Draw Men . Slinged Raw Men . Slim Wrong N . . . . . . .

I drew this image when I was 16, and somehow I continue to reference it as my greatest artistic achievement, despite having drawn and painted many designs since then. At 16 years old, having never engaged in romantic activity of any capacity with another human, my teenage self often struggled with feelings of longing for an experience completely foreign and elusive. Romantically speaking, 22 is an awkward age to be for a career driven single heterosexual male. I have neither the time nor the opportunity to meet and explore romantic relationships since most of my life is now spent enduring the demands of my job or catering to my own mental health. The desire for companionship comes in short, periodic phases followed by long stretches of contentedness with my independence. I'm experimenting with Tinder these days, searching for romance by dipping a line in a pool, waiting for the perfect catch. Despite the app's popularity, I know of no successful relationships with Tinder

I am scared beyond measure. My fighting words strike fear into the hearts of nonexistent tormentors: the antagonists that lurk beneath the deepest trenches of my being. They prod at me with sharpened words. I hold the blood in, hoping it becomes a battle scar.  My sword is bloodied and broken. A day taken and slain is left beneath my feet. Another looms in the horizon with amber eyes and sharpened teeth. I collapse on the ground triumphant, victorious, and defeated. I rise before a soul witnesses I have fallen.  I run forth once again screaming into battle. Sword drawn, heart ablaze, scared beyond measure.  The darkness recedes just a little.  I wrote this during my first few weeks of teaching. I'm on Month 5 now. It's a lot of fun, but I also can't wait until year 2 starts. Bye for now, Mr. Mento