Despair?

I know him.

Hi. I’m Byron.

You’ve felt it.

That thing that’s hard to name. Somewhere between tired and lost and almost fine.

Maybe you’ve cried somewhere embarrassing. A coffee shop. An Uber. A Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Maybe you’ve felt alone even surrounded by people who love you.

Me too.

This is all Carrie Fisher’s fault.

When I was her personal assistant, she’d tell me, “Take your broken heart and go make art.”

I started Byrontology when I felt like a failure.

I share real stories about heartbreak, jealousy, worthlessness.

To connect with my tribe of creatives, overthinkers, and the existentially exhausted.

To find a way back home.

Sometimes it helps.

What I learned about love by losing my virginity to a TV weatherman.

How the gay orgy tent at Burning Man snapped me out of a funk.

What it means that I’m scared my perfectly healthy dog will die one day.

Welcome to Byrontology.

My mom calls it “my little newsletter.”

But calling it a cult is way more on-brand for me.

The New York Times calls my writing “wildly funny and irreverent.”

I just want it to be meaningful. To you.

What people say.

“I’m sitting in a coffee shop reading this and tearing up like crazy.”
— Laura

“This caught me in exactly the right place.”
— Afonso

“Loved reading this. So vulnerable and tender.”
— Sophie

Here’s what’s waiting for you.

Stories you feel. From an award-winning writer. In your inbox.

Never junk. One-click unsubscribe anytime.

It’s free.

Or, treat yourself. For less than a weekly cup of coffee (or a martini—I see you!) you get:

• The personal stuff, like how I process feeling jealous or lonely. Not public posts.

• My survival kit—the things that keep me from drowning on a Tuesday.

• A welcome gift. Something personal. Immediately sent to your email.

• And your support keeps this sometimes sad writer going. That counts, too.

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