It is one of 28 branches of the Dallas Public Library. It is eight floors tall. It looks like this:

Here is what we found there.

1. A brown dragon made out of paper, with green eyes, a fiery tongue, and old book pages down its underbelly.

2. Books covered with leaves and transmuted into flowers:

   

3. A quaint room with a large dollhouse and a presumably fake animal skull. (This room is called the Siddie Joe Johnson Collection.)

4. These chandeliers:

   

5. These chalk drawings:

6. A “Poetree” with poems on each leaf. One poem was by Robert Frost. Others were by nine-year-olds. Nine-year-olds write very good poems.

7. Two old CRT TVs.

8. An aisle stuffed with books of sheet music.

9. Cthulhu:

   

10. A “Fiber Arts Workroom” for sewing and knitting, with an apothecary cabinet at the back.

11. A beautiful drawing from a manga series called Berserk, by Kentaro Miura:

    

12. A community mural that anyone can add to, full of feathers, ants, giant dogs and cats shooting laser beams out of their eyes, and many examples of “67” and that “S” kids draw in school.

13. A garden on the 5th-floor terrace, tended by the librarians of the Business, Science, and Technology section.

14. A fake sunflower in the garden that I thought was a real sunflower:

    

15. A 1980s atlas about Japan, with every possible statistic and chart you could imagine.

16. A 2006 fishing map in a filing cabinet, printed like a trifold tourist brochure.

17. This machine, which I think is a copy machine for microfilm:

    

18. A whole lot of people working on every floor, at eight different front desks, so that this place can exist.

For more, check out the online tour of the J. Erik Jonsson Central Library:

Take the tour

What did you find at the library when you last went? Let me know in the comments. And don’t forget to subscribe:

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See you next time.

I don’t care if no one ever sees it but you. It’s still beautiful.

I don’t care if I remember it forever or just in this moment. It’s still beautiful.

I don’t care if you only see its flaws. Heck, I don’t care if everyone else does too. It’s still beautiful.

I don’t care if you made a painting or a poem or small talk or a doodle or a life for yourself or someone else’s day or an idea or a mess.

What you made is beautiful.

And so is the story of you making it.

Making it because… Making it in spite of…

Making it all the way here.

Here, where you and me and everyone else made something together.

We made a world. Made of people. Who are made of good things.

We made a world I want to live in, despite everything.

And that’s beautiful.

I didn’t have a theme in mind. But as I played with possible combinations of videos, I realized most of the videos had something to do with animation. Which honestly makes sense. I love animation: Steven Universe, Ghibli movies, camera menu icons.

So I figured, why not lean into it? What follows is a selection of short videos (each well under 5 minutes) that are animated or otherwise related to animation.

(A good number are also related to gadgets. Which also makes sense. I love gadgets.)

Each video is accompanied by the delightful commentary of yours truly. It’s up to you if you decide to watch all the videos, or some, or none. Follow your heart! I’m not the boss of you.

(But just remember: You might actually enjoy watching some of these.)

Let’s dive in.

The “my first Sony” Animation Computer

I originally dreamed up this post primarily as an excuse to share this video.

It’s about an animation-making gadget that Sony made for kids circa 1990. As far as I’m aware, the way you make animations with this machine follows no conventions for how animations are normally made.

I’m obsessed with this gadget. But I am perhaps even more obsessed with the adorable, inventive, minimalist animations that the presenter actually made using this machine.

F.O.O.F.

I went two entire posts without mentioning , and that streak has now thankfully come to an end.

This is a stop-motion music video for one of their songs. The animator’s name is Cole Montminy. He animated the video out of fuzz.

Fuzz.

How the fuzz did he do that?!

Assemble with Care

Assemble with Care is one of my favorite video games ever. I mean, it has gorgeous illustrations and retro gadgets, which are the two most important food groups.

This video lets you hear straight from the team at Ustwo Games and watch the game come together.

I don’t know if this game truly counts as animation. But it’s my blog and I make the rules, so I’m saying it does. It’s interesting. Half of each level actually has static, though beautiful, illustrations that you flip through like a storybook. Through the voice acting and detailed sound effects, you can imagine each scene in motion.

But half of each level has you repairing objects yourself. The objects and gadgets reveal, and advance, the characters’ stories. This blog post details all the strategies, some beyond my comprehension, that make these interactive, 3D-modeled segments look as if they are being hand-painted and animated before your very eyes.

You should play this game. And you know what? I think this calls for my first-ever Substack button.

Download the game

SpongeBob SquarePants, “Help Wanted”

(Earworm alert: This video includes an annoying song that will get stuck in your head. You’ve been warned.)

(Also, the part of the video I’m trying to show you ends at 1 minute, 2 seconds. You can skip the last 20-ish seconds if you like.)

Who knew early SpongeBob episodes are absolute works of art?

This is a delightful montage from the pilot, “Help Wanted.” My favorite part is SpongeBob gallivanting across the nozzles of the ketchup, mustard, and mayo dispensers. (As one does.)

Share Your Gifts

I realize this is an Apple commercial. And I realize Apple is somewhere between morally ambiguous and morally bankrupt.

The problem is, unfortunately, I am an Apple fanboy. And this commercial is one of the most beautiful animated short films I can think of.

The backgrounds are so detailed and so warm, I had to pause on practically every frame to stare at them.

The story feels like a love letter to everyone who has ever been shy, or overwhelmed, or a perfectionist. To everyone who has ever been afraid to share their art with the world, or afraid to share their authentic, happy, silly self with the world. To everyone who has ever been afraid to make art in the first place. I relate to all of the above.

And the short film is set to a stunning original song by one of my favorite artists, Billie Eilish. It’s called “come out and play.”

With all this beauty, I can forgive the MacBook product placement. (Oh, who am I kidding. I love the MacBook product placement. You can even briefly see the Touch Bar…)

Ice Water

And finally, this is an animation about the life of an animator.

Some backstory: Rebecca Sugar is the creator of Steven Universe, an animated show that helped me accept my queerness, served as my refuge during middle and high school, and remains my favorite show of all time.

Sugar has since released their own original music on an EP, Spiral Bound, and an album, Lonely Magic. This is the music video for one of the songs from Lonely Magic, called “Ice Water.” Sugar directed and storyboarded the video.

There are a few more 1-minute videos that give context to this song and the entire album. Sugar tells us their story of being in art school, falling in love, and then having to be long-distance. They also made delightfully nerdy explanations of the “Lonely Magic angels,” the three winged characters in the video who are named for different parts of the creative process: Epiphany, Rationale, and Ache. I promise watching all these videos is worth the extra 5 minutes.

When I first heard this song and this album, it evoked complicated feelings for me. Which is a story for another day. But a few nights ago, listening again, I realized I have changed, and my life has changed, and this song means something new to me. In that moment, I felt the kind of euphoria that Sugar sings about, running through ice-cold puddles and feeling like the whole world is right.

And I’m lucky that I’ve felt that feeling pretty often lately.

Which of these videos did you watch? What did they make you feel, or think about? Let me know in the comments below. And don’t forget to subscribe:

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See you next time.

When I was a kid, I got a cell phone that could (gasp!) record video. Thus began a long tradition of me forcing my younger brother to star in my made-up TV shows against his will.

There were multiple series, with episodes and semblances of plot. The dialogue was unintelligible over our laughter and random shrieking, and the camerawork was so shaky, it might as well have been an intense ‘90s music visualizer.

Yet I was convinced we were onto something. I even had a name for my fictitious media production company: Maxwell Video.

But my ambitions were limited by the fact that I wore too many hats. Actor. Cameraperson. Writer. Visionary. And having only one begrudging actor to help me wasn’t enough.

However, in sixth grade, my dreams came true. My uncle got divorced for the second time and came to live with us for a year. And now I had two begrudging actors to help me out.

This is where it begins.

I envisioned a variety show, more complex than anything I had thus far created. It would have skits: some silly, some meaningful, some informational. Some one-time, and some recurring.

I dreamed of making a show good enough that, if I put it on the TV, my family would watch it and enjoy it like any show. (I did not make a show good enough for this to happen.)

With increased complexity came increased production value. I started filming with my then-new iPad, and I used iMovie to combine the skits into one video per episode. I even added title cards. (Which always stayed on-screen way too long because I didn’t know how to use iMovie.)

I was a gay little kid and didn’t know it yet, so I always wanted to play the girl characters. In my mind, the easiest way to signal girlhood was long hair, so in prior shows, I had clipped printer paper to my head and draped it down over my ears. This looked stupid, so my mom, who is a lovely human being, made me a long wig out of yellow yarn just for this show. I still have it today:

So we had a cast. We had production equipment. We had a wardrobe. All that was left was a title. And I remember, on a summer visit to the neighborhood pool with my family, it hit me.

Pixis.

I knew instantly that would be the name of the show. Never mind that it doesn’t mean anything and isn’t a word.

(It’s pronounced “PICKS-iss,” in case you’re wondering.)

All the pieces had fallen into place.

The show itself had 7 episodes, totaling just over 21 minutes. My brother or I would introduce each episode, and then the mayhem would commence.

One recurring skit series on the show was, as my uncle christened it, “The Show Where We Interview People We Pretend Not to Know.” I tasked my uncle with interviewing my mom and my cousin about their lives. Despite his deadpan delivery, my uncle did not take his duties seriously, asking questions like:

I would often yell from behind the camera, saying things like, “Be serious for one question!” My uncle would respond by commenting on this unknown invisible voice that was commanding him (the “voice of God”).

To his credit, it’s not like my brother and I facilitated a serious interviewing atmosphere either. My brother sat on the floor between my uncle and his guests, and I tasked him with causing chaos. This included him laughing maniacally, pretending to bite the guests’ legs, and waving his arms like a car dealership inflatable.

Another recurring skit series was a sort of mini-sitcom. I cast my uncle and brother as roommates who were somehow the same age. My brother’s character worked at a restaurant called Vines. (This never factored into the plot at all. Not that there was a plot.)

In the first skit, my brother decided to hire my character, Georgia Banks (in her resplendent yellow wig), to surprise my uncle for his birthday. This was after I introduced myself:

I was already giggling as I delivered these lines. On the word “I,” my voice rose about fifteen octaves. After introducing myself, I launched into a very neurodiverse explanation of the pricing structure for my party planning services.

Things devolved in the next scene. I sang a nonsensical birthday song for my uncle (something about throwing a ball and not hitting a tall wall). My brother took this chance to cast doubt on my character’s gender identity (“How is he — how is she a girl?”), then began screaming and chasing me around the room. My mom panned the camera to my uncle, who announced, “Vanity project,” as we shrieked in the background.

In the second episode of this skit series, my uncle’s character and my brother’s character decided to adopt a stray cat. Then the camera panned down, and I’m not sure what I expected to see, but what I saw was me, wearing a cat ear headband, crawling around on all fours.

Another recurring skit in my vanity project was “Geography with Fruit,” in which Anna Banana, Laredo Tomato, and Chicago Avocado taught us (sort of) about their respective hometowns. I did remarkably little research into each city, culminating in this bold and conclusive statement from Chicago Avocado that both started and ended the skit:

Yet another recurring skit involved my uncle delivering comedy routines, one of which was vaguely inappropriate and the other of which was lazy. What I find far more engaging are my brother’s performances as the opening act. Despite being forced to participate in Pixis, my brother has such a positive attitude in every episode. And here, he delivered his jokes in the slightly self-deprecating yet surprisingly suave way that only a 9-year-old can manage, with a winning smile, perfect comedic timing, and the occasional raised eyebrow at the camera. Here’s one of his one-liners:

There was one skit in the show that was so bad, I spent years being afraid to ever watch it again. Years. But when I rewatched it to write this post, I realized it may actually be the best part of the show. (Not to toot my own horn.)

It is an original song that I wrote and performed. (A cappella!) It is called “The Day.” Here are the lyrics. Trust that the melody is catchy.

Ten out of ten. No notes. Except that my use of “goon” was a malapropism. I think I combined “goose” and “loon” (the bird) in my head.

The show dropped precipitously in quality as the episodes went on. Partially this was because I ousted my uncle from the later episodes due to creative differences. (He never did what I asked! Even after I yelled at him on-camera in one episode.)

It’s interesting. My uncle was (and is) a contrarian. If he had his way, this show would have been emotionless except when it was grouchy. (If he had his way, the show wouldn’t have existed at all.)

But it’s not like I had the skill at 11 years old to bring my vision to life. My dreams of nuanced characters, meaningful interviews, and practical information (like the skit where my dad taught us how to make chicken tacos!) gave way to a reality of incoherent jokes, excessive commentary on my part, and a whole lot of my brother and me rolling around and crawling on the floor.

But every time my uncle didn’t do what I asked, every time we laughed through our lines or improvised, every time you could hear my mom giving stage directions from behind the camera…you got a glimpse of characters more nuanced than any we could have created. You got a glimpse of me and my family.

My uncle, who did me the kindness of participating.

My brother, who was a goofball, a smooth operator, and my right-hand man.

My mom and dad, who supported me in everything, and still do.

And me. I haven’t changed, you know. I am still proud of this terrible little show. Because when I was 11, my brain was full of facts and moments and memories and ideas. They didn’t go together. But I loved them all. So I created this show as a place to put them.

And now, my brain is still full of facts and moments and memories and ideas. They still don’t go together. And I still love them all. So I created this newsletter as a place to put them.

Pixis was my first attempt to do what I’m still doing today: making a space for my whole self. Making a space where anything goes.

Or should I say, anything glows.

I’ll see myself out.

What kinds of chaos did you get up to as an 11-year-old? Did you force your family to star in a variety show that involved incessant laughter and you wearing a wig? Whatever antics you were up to, tell me about them in the comments below. And for more stories nothing like this, make sure to subscribe:

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See you later.

Aren’t these animations beautiful?

This is a camera I wish I had grown up with. It’s a Panasonic Lumix DMC-LZ5. It came out in 2006, but I bought it in 2024. It was 30 bucks on eBay.

I love this camera. It has a “simple mode” with an icon that looks like a heart. It has a mode dial and a power switch. It has a 6x zoom and it takes pretty darn good pictures. It has the crunchiest screen you’ve ever seen, which somehow makes the pictures even more beautiful.

But my favorite part of this camera is the animations that play when you select a scene mode. Do you remember these modes from your own old digicam? Did you ever use them? I didn’t. But they changed the settings based on whatever you were photographing. Portraits. Food. Sports.

Photos are detail but no movement. These animations are movement but no detail. The one thing photos can’t quite capture. Hair billowing. Clouds drifting. Stars twinkling. Wine…drinking?

Panasonic doesn’t take these too seriously. The fork and knife are dancing. The snowman is waving. (He’s just happy to be alive.)

I’m bad at being concise. I’m trying to practice with these posts. And these animations are good inspiration. They are two to four frames each. They have a palette of exactly five colors: white, black, light blue, red, and yellow.

They tell a story. I kind of want to live in this place, where only the best memories happen. Ballet shows and meteor showers. Fireworks and candlelit dinners. Babies crawling as their families watch, lovingly.

All this takes place against a dark blue backdrop. The kind you’d see on your old CRT television set, when you cut on the VCR or switched to an input with no signal. The color reminds me of the cover of The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton. Like the night is electric with possibility, the kind you could feel even when you were a child buckled into the backseat.

They didn’t have to do this. Panasonic could have just put boring static icons. It would have been cheaper. But someone decided to care. Someone decided this would bring joy.

And almost twenty years later, it still does.

What do you remember about your digital camera, the kind you put in a drawer once your phone replaced it? Do you remember what color it was, what brand? What photos you took, and when, and where? Was it confusing to use?

Do you miss it?

Tell me everything in the comments below. And for more digicam nonsense, make sure to subscribe:

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See you next time.

P.S. My GIFs don’t quite capture the vivid colors of the animations, especially the reds. So here’s a video showing these the way they were meant to be seen: still crunchy, but less so.

They’ve all led me to the same conclusion…

Color is awesome.

Seriously. We have a whole rainbow of shades that we can morph and muddy and match to evoke different feelings. Color is a language, and it does things words can’t do.

My favorite color is blue. (It used to be red when I was a kid, but we won’t talk about that.)

Somehow I got the idea to write a post about my favorite blue things. And I’ve been lucky enough to afford and own a lot of blue things. Which means that you can kinda tell the story of me, or at least one angle of it, through the blue things I own.

So let’s try it.

My Sony ICF-CD855V alarm clock

I am a nerd about alarm clocks. This is why I have a blog called Max Talks Alarm Clocks.

One of my first loves was this clock, the Sony ICF-CD855V. (Don’t panic, just sound it out.)

Look at it again.

It’s techy but also flowy and peaceful. You can watch the CD spin, and when you open the CD door, the display tips back. The whole thing feels like a waterfall.

When I was younger, some time after I had identified this clock as an object of desire, my mom and I encountered one in a waiting room, playing radio for the visitors and flashing “AM 12:00.” I wished we could have walked up to the receptionist and placed a bid.

I have since brought teen Max’s dreams to life by buying this clock on eBay. The seller said “Tested! Works!” But actually, the buttons on the right are wonky, so it takes a lot of fiddling to get CDs to play. But they do play.

I leave this clock unplugged most of the time. But it is a beautiful sculpture to look at.

My mini backpack

I just bought this backpack and I love it. You know how men aren’t allowed to have purses because gender norms? Well, I still have stuff. And I’m kind of tired of my pants pockets being big enough to burst.

I wanted a small bag. Like pockets, but not attached to me. And I found this store-brand one at Target for $15. (My color is sold out, but there are a few colors left.)

It is the perfect blue. Bright enough to bring joy. Subdued enough to add mystery and coordinate with any outfit.

It is also the perfect size. Look how small it is:

This bag makes my anxious brain so happy. It’s like a survival kit I can wear. I am now prepared for any occurrence.

In the big pocket, I have:

• Disposable rain ponchos

• KN95 masks

• Benadryl itch relief stick

• Purell

• Tissues

• My wallet, replete with necessary prescription and OTC meds

In the small pocket, I have:

• Lens wipes for cleaning my phone screen

• Aquaphor lip balm

• Floss

• Keys

When I was in a big auditorium and trapped next to people coughing? Mask to the rescue.

When I was at the mall and an eyelash was poking in my eye? I caught it in a tissue.

When I was on a date with my partner and it started raining? I put on a rain poncho, waltzed through the parking lot undrenched, and picked them up at the door so they wouldn’t get wet either.

Blue backpack for the win.

My rug

At the start of grad school, I made my room more blue. Blue wallpaper, blue bedspread. (Rainbow bookshelves.) And blue rug.

This rug is from At Home. It is very, very, very soft. Plush.

The pattern is ocean and sand colors, all mixed together. My favorite color is the light blue, which is just a hint electric.

I have spent many hours on this rug, in the dark, with headphones on, dancing to my favorite music. In these moments, my body feels most like mine.

Right now this rug is covered in dirty clothes.

“So Blue” by Frankie Cosmos

Did you know that Anything Glows is just a fan blog in disguise?

This song has an architecture. It has a first half and a second half. The first half earns your attention. The second half is when everything unfolds. Unfurls.

I love the guitars and I am not smart enough about music to explain them.

Here are the lyrics of the second half of the song:

My shirt

Everything I love is from a Target store brand.

This shirt is big enough to be flowy. I like flowy. I’ve already used the word once in this post before.

This shirt is a good blank canvas for my rainbow tree necklace, which I bought at Dallas Love Field airport last summer.

My waterproof camera

I’ve had this for years. It’s a Fujifilm FinePix XP120.

It does turn out that there’s only so many unique photos you can take of you and your peeps in the pool or at the ocean.

But this makes for a good nerdy fidget toy to play with in the water.

And the blue on this thing is luminous.

My jacket

Target. Store. Brand.

I bought this when I was trying to up my sense of style. I saw it and I was like, “Huh. That’s weird.” And then I was like, “It’s exactly the right kind of weird.”

The white streaks remind me of clouds. I love how they look almost like dirty smudges. It’s uncomfy in a good way.

I love how the blues have clashing undertones and materials. Plush purple-y blue for most of the jacket, but plastic yellow-y blue for the zipper and front pocket. It’s uncomfy in a good way.

This jacket is a little too warm for Texas weather, and it leaves your head a little too cold because it has no hood. I don’t care. (The things we do for fashion.)

Angel Bear

I have had Angel Bear since I was the littlest of little kids. My parents named her, not me. She is small and faded and snub-nosed and precious. She has white wings and a sweet little rattle inside. She is made by Baby Ganz.

I have many plushies, but she is the OG.

My old blog

Some of you know that I’ve been reviewing books for almost 10 years. And this is where. It’s called Completely Full Bookshelf.

This blog has been redesigned once, but it has always been very blue. The shade is #45C1EA. Don’t ask me why I have that memorized.

I’m proud of this blog. I’ve shown love to miraculous books. I’ve been vulnerable and practiced my writing. And I’ve made friends. (Internet friends are awesome.)

Now that I have my Substack, I don’t think I’m going to use this blog as much anymore. But it will always be a part of my story.

And that’s it!

If you want more meandering eccentricities like this post, make sure to subscribe.

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What are your favorite blue things? Or favorite things of any color? Leave a comment and let me know. Or email me at maxanythingglows@gmail.com. Or find me wherever you find me.

See you soon.

You might already know me, but if you don’t, or if you want to know me better, check out my About page.

I’m at a loss for words today, so I’m going to let other people do the talking. (Sort of.) I want to share some song lyrics with you that make me feel seen, and inspire me, and give me hope.

Fair warning, I am the kind of music listener who listens to the same 10 artists again and again, so you’re going to see a lot of lyrics.

Let’s do this.

1.

I have spent a lot of time in my life trying to be perfect. Trying to find the perfect words for things. Trying to find the perfect words to make someone feel better.

And I never liked the protagonist of this song, who gets drunk, who gets afraid and insecure, who hurts the ones she loves. I thought she wasn’t trying hard enough.

But I was wrong.

One time, my dad told me that, when someone needs support from you, it matters less what you say and more that you were there at all.

And I have realized that I don’t need people to show up for me in a perfect way. It means so much that they show up, period. So maybe I don’t need to be perfect either.

The protagonist of this song is in so much pain. Spiraling, unsure, confused. Maybe she’s never done this before.

But she shows up in the doorway, with no words but good intentions. And that is beautiful.

Listen to the song:

2.

I am not good at trusting people. Partially because I am anxious. And partially because I have been hurt before. (I feel like people maybe see me as an easy target.)

I am tempted not to trust people until I can prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they have good intentions. But that’s folly. I’ll never truly know anyone else’s intentions (unless we invent telepathy). I can maybe make a darn good guess, but that’s it. It’s a guess.

This song has been getting me through recently. It reminds me that trust isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you choose. You don’t trust because you know exactly what will happen next. You trust because your life is more beautiful when you trust than when you don’t.

Trust is a leap of faith in someone else. And I am learning to make that leap.

Listen to the song:

3.

I have known people who made me feel like, if I missed them, it was because there was something wrong with me. I should miss them less. I should need less from them.

I am thankful not to know those people anymore.

And now when I miss people, I try to stuff it down. Pretend I don’t care and it doesn’t matter and everything’s fine, they’re good without me, I’m good without them, yadda yadda yadda.

But this lyric jumped into my brain a few days ago. It posits this radical notion that if you miss someone…reach out to them? Like, maybe that’s not burdensome to them? Maybe they’ll be happy to be wanted? Maybe, even if they hadn’t reached out first in quite the same way, they’ll still enjoy getting to connect with you?

Like I said. Radical notion.

Listen to the song:

4.

I have always loved this lyric. I think I am a person full of unsaids, all the things that matter so much to me but that the world doesn’t want to hear. My dream is to find people who want to hear those things, and I am grateful that I have actually found those people.

This lyric describes what having those unsaids feels like. You want to say them. You want someone to understand. You want someone to care as much as you do. But you’re not sure if they will.

I want to be a person who listens to other people’s unsaids too. And remembers them. And feels them deeply. It’s hard. Sometimes we don’t understand, or we’re afraid to understand.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.

Listen to the song:

5.

Like with the first song in this list, these lyrics used to make me sad. Does the protagonist really love the other person if he chooses to be far away, to leave after not enough time, to say unkind words?

But now I hear it more like: Life may take us apart, or limit our time together, or I’ll say something that I don’t mean. But my care and affection for you runs deeper than that. It traverses time and space. It outlives mistakes. It makes me who I am, even when we’re apart.

You know, you can care about somebody and not have the words for why. This I am learning.

Listen to the song:

(P.S. No shade to Adele, but I prefer the original version of this song by The Cure. My mom grew up in the 80s, so I do love a good 80s song.)

6.

This is just true. The same part of us that screams out to be loved and yearns to be understood, is the part of us that gets defensive and pushes people away and inflicts hurt when we don’t feel loved or understood. Being sad hurts too much, so we get angry instead.

I think maybe all of us have those ugly parts inside, and we still want to be loved, and we still deserve to be loved.

Frankie Cosmos says it better than I ever could.

Listen to the song:

And that’s it!

Thanks for listening to my unsaids. If you’d like to keep listening, it would mean a lot to me if you subscribe. I’m hoping this is just the first post in a long series of endless rambles and chaos that I hope you’ll want to be part of. I promise that my posts won’t all be this existential. In fact, every post will have a different enough topic to give you whiplash. You in?

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And if you have your own unsaids that you want to share, you can always leave a comment, or you can reach me at maxanythingglows@gmail.com. (Or if you know me IRL, you can find me wherever you find me.)

This is the end of the post, but it’s the beginning of the conversation.