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Look—I love a good grilled hot dog and overly patriotic playlist as much as anyone. Here in the U.S., the 4th of July is our Independence Day—a time for fireworks, cookouts, and pretending it’s not 400 degrees in Texas. There’s something nostalgic about watching the sky light up while holding a melting popsicle and trying…
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For a long time, I thought survival meant silence. If I didn’t feel it-didn’t name it-maybe it couldn’t destroy me. So I went numb. Because numbness is quieter than pain. Because when you’ve sat at the edge of yourself – when depression curls its fingers around your lungs – feeling anything can seem like a…
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A.S. Thorne If my anxiety were a person, she’d definitely show up uninvited. She wouldn’t knock.She’d just be there – already sitting in my passenger seat, breathing heavy before I even leave the driveway. I don’t have a name for her yet. Nothing feels quite right. But…if I had to choose something on the spot…
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A.S. Thorne Some weeks feel like survival. Some feel like momentum.This week? Somewhere in between.So today, I’m keeping it simple:Here are five things getting me through right now. 1. A comfort thing. Ice cream. Any kind, really, as long as it’s Blue Bell. But lately? Groom’s Cake has been my go-to. That said, Moo-linium Crunch…
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A.S. Thorne There’s a version of me I’ve spent most of my life avoiding. The one who looks back at me in the mirror and makes me flinch. The one who carries extra weight, stretch marks, insecurity, softness.The one who feels too much and not enough – at the same time. That version? I’m still…
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What am I most worried about for the future? Not being good enough is the easy answer. It’s the one I can say with a nervous laugh and brush off with a joke about being a perfectionist. But underneath that lives a deeper, more haunting truth: I’m scared of being a failure. Not just in…
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Has your reflection ever looked back at you and felt… unfamiliar? Not because your hair was messy or your eyes were tired, but because something inside had shifted—quietly, maybe, but irrevocably. A moment where the version of you staring from the glass didn’t feel like yours. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was the truest…
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The short answer?Writing. Plants. The people (and creatures) I love. The longer answer is softer, quieter. And maybe a little messy. Because for a long time, I didn’t really know what self-care was. I thought it was something people did in bathtubs, with candles and soft music and time I didn’t have. I thought it…
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I didn’t choose the name A.S. Thorne by accident. It’s not just a pen name – it’s a quiet place. A whispered agreement between every version of myself that never got to speak, and the one finally learning how. The initials stand for Another Self. Not because I’m hiding – but because I’m healing. Because…
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A.S. Thorne 