Nonfiction

I’ve only seen the snow once in my life, when we took a family trip to Lake Tahoe.

It's cold here, I reply to my grandparents when they ask how our week's going. It's cold, and wet, and already I am helping my friends put up Christmas decorations and string LEDs across their rooms, playing holiday music to try

They say that women don’t need men, and I believe that to be true. We don’t need men. But, by whatever powers may exist, does my young heart lie awake late at night and long to feel what it has never felt.

It’s not really something I can share, is it? Because they feel it. Visible in their eyes, urgent text messages, twirling of the hair. How do you communicate an ache originating from the darkest depths of your soul?

Tears are cakey. They're extreme. Maybe that's why nobody wants to see them. It feels like you're seeing somebody nude. Can I tell you what I love? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

Today was a fairly good day. I love myself. I love my life. Read this next time you're in anguish. I'm watching October slip by like fall leaves on a dead tree. I need to find something else to do besides watching the time pass. I have no energy.

Why is it raining.

I would rather be fishing. 

Wednesdays are long.

Tell me, am I not the only one who is sick of these damn old men deciding what women are going to do with their bodies?

ywp is my home away from home

except it's always at my home

so it is my home

One summer, when I was about five years old, I abruptly glanced upon the vast sea with new eyes, ones that saw the water that I used to love so dearly in a petrifying new light.

For the adjective challenge I described an apple and than I asked ChatGPT to describe an apple without adjectives.

Honestly, it’s hard to believe that as I’m writing this, lounging here in a big bus (treat from Iteam), I’m completing four weeks in Guatemala. I had no idea I would be able to do this trip. My brain was full of fears.