Hey. I'm Sabrina. 

I write because it is how I become my truth. Because truth is how we stay connected. Because truth is how we grow intimacy. Because truth is the only way to be known. Because that is the only way to find home.

I write even though it's terrifying. Because the only thing more terrifying than writing is not writing. Because some stories become wild animals and build nests in your lungs and if you don't let them out, they'll tear the whole place apart. 

I write because I know stories have the power to change the world. Because stories set us free. Because stories connect us. Because the moment words become a mirror is the moment true connection and intimacy happens. 

Some Little Things

I'm from the Pacific Northwest. Well, mostly.

I have been known to cry at least 3 times a day, but with so much beauty and excitement and wonder and pain in the world, how could I not?

My great great grandmother Hattie was a rumored witch. I believe it. Maybe there is some truth to all those Sabrina the Teenage Witch jokes, after all.

The ocean is my favorite place.

You can usually find me gazing at the moon, talking to the ocean, running, flipping upside down, scribbling on napkins and receipts, talking too loudly, or trying to extract just one more kiss, one more cuddle, from my love.

Sometimes my days revolve around the rhythm of my hot beverage consumption. The usual beats? Matcha, turmeric milk, hot chocolate. Almond milk. Extra hot.

I love cold beaches, enormous trees, coastal towns, new journals, old journals, astrology (ahem, leo), vanilla, lavender, breakfast nooks, ridiculously long walks, used book stories, new cities, birthday cake, sunrises, and this soul.

inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are
— Anthony Marra
Her heart is a desert,
wide open and
large enough to get lost in,
and at night, you can look up
and behold her stars,
constellations made up
of the skeletons of all the women
she used to be.
— like mother
I still remember the first time you put your arm around me,

on that rainy Saturday night at the bus stop.

I don’t know if it was because of the wind

or that I could already feel myself falling in love with you,

but I felt entire lifetimes rush through my veins
— What I tried to tell you at 3 am