HeyJarednotes on living
a little corner of the internet for all of us trying our best to feel more alive. these notes are for you.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 21, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 13, 2026
Latest issues
dear home, i am sorry i tried to run away from you (opens the original)
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dear home,i am sorry i tried to run away from you for so long. that i thought my life could only happen outside of you.</div
it is the middle of september. and you have time (opens the original)
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every year, i wait for fall to change me. to make me into the best version of myself. and every year, i almost miss this season by trying too hard to hold on. not this time. <img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="50" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!XmiO!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc3e54642-76eb-42fd-85c1-228e60772aa2_500x500
go on. make the wrong choices (opens the original)
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if i could, i would invite you to sit across from me at the kitchen table. i’d bring you a cup of tea, or coffee if you feel like it, and tell you what to choose.i would tell you to finally go after your dream, the one you’ve been putting off for years, buried beneath fear and responsibility. i would tell you to stay at the job if staying is what lets you choose it, rather than feeling trapped in a room where the walls keep closing in.i would tell you to leave. i would tell you to stay.to have k
it’s very beautiful, i think (opens the original)
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i’m sitting on a bench.the sun shines bright upon me, warming my skin, the straps of my top pulled to the side to catch the last small possibility of a tan.i’m in the center of all these allotment plots in the middle of the city. in front of me is an open patch of grass, enclosed by a red picket fence. bushes grow tall behind it, weeds sneaking their way between the wooden planks.needless to say, i’ve found a contender for my favorite spot in our new area.a small bird just landed on the wooden t
tell me every boring little detail (opens the original)
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dear younger ,today, you are eighty years old. you have lived a long life, and it’s far from over still.it feels strange to be writing this to you, because you still feel like me. as if you are reading this and writing it at the same time.i know you want to ask me questions. i know the curious soul that you are.you’ll want to know if you had children. if your career was successful. which people stayed in your life.whether all this uncertainty ultimately made sense.but for once, i want to be a li
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