May Karlén

So glad to see you Jared

Ozzy Osbourne funeral procession through Birmingham is being led by musicians playing Iron Man

🤘🥺🙏

Fact: The President of the United States has a worse criminal record than 99% of the people he is deporting.

I am thinking, write something short and fun, then hit them with my bricks when I’m famous. 💀

X is down. Again. 💀

No doubt Kamala will be running for president again. This will be wild🫶🏻🙌🏻

Wednesday🫶🏻

Humanity is hanging on by a thread.
Fortunately, it’s barbed, blood-soaked, and weirdly sentimental.

Hope isn’t a candle. It’s a cockroach.
Ugly, unwanted, unkillable.
It crawls out of the rubble anyway.

The world is crumbling, but people still say “bless you” when someone sneezes.
We’re monsters, sure—but polite ones.

People are still making bread, writing poems, rescuing dogs, and falling asleep to storms.
We’re not done yet.

Everything feels impossible until someone does something kind anyway.
Then suddenly the apocalypse has worse odds.

Love is real. I saw it today.
A crow brought a man a shiny button. The man cried. The crow looked smug.
So, yes. There is hope. And also crows.

Take heart. Somewhere, a very tired woman is planting tulips in soil ruined by war.
That’s either hope or stubbornness. Either way, it works.

Good things are still happening. They’re just a bit quiet right now.
Like mushrooms. Or introverts. Or necromancers.

Every day I wake up and think, “Wow. Still here.”
Then I put on coffee and prepare to emotionally blackmail myself into hope again.
It’s a process.

The world’s on fire, but hey—roses still bloom, cats still loaf, and someone somewhere just kissed someone for the first time.
Hold on to that. And maybe also a fire extinguisher.

His words were laced with poison, a subtle venom dripping from every syllable like a snack coiled to strike.
(Should be snake. But now I’m just picturing an aggressive croissant.)

The storm raged outside, its fury battering the walls like an unhinged lover demanding entry.

HP Lovecraft at the vet check-in. The waiting room is crowded.
Vet: "What's your cat called?"

He spoke in hushed tones, a secret woven between them like a sacred bong passed in the dark.

Bye

"Endings must be like locked doors. The reader should stare at them, knowing they cannot go back, but terrified to move forward."

"A good story grips the reader. A great story does not let go, even when they beg."

"To write well is to invite something into your home. You may believe it is only a story. You would be wrong."

"The greatest horror is not in what is written but in what is left unsaid."

- so I'll just stop writing.

"Your villain should be charming. Even a predator must know how to smile."

"There should always be something just out of sight. The shadow that shifts when the reader is not looking. The unease that follows them home."

"If your setting is old, it should /feel/ old—worn, whispering, pregnant with past sins that refuse to rest."

"Write long enough, and the characters begin to whisper back. Ignore them at your peril."