For a moment I let myself stare at his name, bolded in black font, unopened on my lock screen. Just sitting there, like nothing had changed. Like we’d never stopped talking, like there had never been a year of radio silence between us. I opened it and read it and immediately laughed. Gut-deep laughed. One thing […]Read More The monsters turned out to be just trees.
There’s one seat at our table that stays vacant. You can’t sit with us. She stands on the outskirts of the room, awkward with a terrible sense of fashion and frizzy hair, and I cringe. I don’t just pretend she isn’t there; I pretend she never existed. I’ve never had a good relationship with her, […]Read More Give her a seat at the table.
I don’t know what it looked like when my expression shifted, when I rounded the stairs and saw him sitting on the couches. But I felt it in my body, like weights had been released. And as the weights fell, I did too. I collapsed into his arms, crying, uncontrollably, unashamedly. He let me cry. In […]Read More Welcome to year 2.
He likes his mornings slow and easy — coffee and a newspaper. He likes waking up with the sun. “I like waking up when things are still quiet and everything is peaceful,” he said. “Most of the world is still asleep. I want to wake up eager for the day and eager for what’s about to happen, and […]Read More Eyes wide open.
I almost failed this semester. Reread that. Failed. Like “ya girl already failed one class last semester and if she fails again this semester she’s gonna have to leave school” failed. It was the middle of March when I realized that could become my reality. I was walking up the stairs to my 8am when […]Read More If you want to know what it feels like to almost fail out of school, read this.
I guess I just woke up one day and realized I didn’t need it anymore. I found other ways to channel how I felt. I talk to people. Professionals. Friends. Family. I’m being honest and open in a physical-not-digital world sort of way. And I still write my words. Just more condensed. Sometimes even more […]Read More Room 401.
I pull into the parking lot. You should have stayed at home. Get out of my car. Lock it. Throw the keys in my bag. Your hair looks frizzy tonight. You should’ve straightened it. I make my way to the doors. You didn’t catch the obvious dress code that everyone’s wearing a dress and you’re wearing […]Read More When the small voices have big megaphones.
Her tears made a puddle on the clean white tabletop, and she dried them away with her sleeve. She asked if her mascara had smudged. I told her it had not. She’d never been an ugly crier. And she went silent, that silence that is hopefully, desperately, expecting the listener to extend advice, a hand, a […]Read More Tabletop talks.
Right now she’s weaving in and out of unfamiliar faces, dragging a suitcase behind her. Waiting for her flight to be called. Waiting to land in the uncertainty of the weekend. She’s trying to be brave, but the lukewarm coffee sloshes in her paper cup, reminding her how utterly alone she feels. She thought this time would work. […]Read More The sun will come out tomorrow.
This is what you look like to me :: a whole lot of brave, wrapped up in a whole lot of fear. And it’s time to love the brave out of you and put the fear to rest. You deserve to take up space here; you matter here. So walk like you do. / / […]Read More Let’s speak tiny declarations and small truths over ourselves until we believe them.