Nonfiction

She dreamed of someone who couldn't quite be placed... 
Blonde hair laid upon her shoulders
Multiple hoops spun around her waist
She was small and thin but stood stong
A smile beamed from cheek to cheek
This person was her

Each Christmas with my family is spectacular, but one Christmas when I was about 8 years old sticks out in particular. My parents woke me up at around 8:30 that cold, Christmas morning like they usually do.

Today is Sunday and my mom brought me and my siblings to church. But church was different today. There was a guest.

Now and then, I am struck with the epiphany that I am not the only consciousness in this world. This realization does not come when I talk with other people, but rather when I am with an animal.

By Jacob Phelps

I'm inspired by people who care, who help, who can do great things but still be humble about it.

I want to thank the voice in my head.
The voice that stays confined in my headspace and communicates solely with me.
The one that whispers to me in the dark and coaxes me out towards the light.

Many of us can relate with bitter indifference to the approaching winter season. 
The sunlight steadily retreats beneath the horizon,
And the last of the sun’s rays follow with it.

My life has a soundtrack, bluesy rock that sounds like cooking with my grandfather on Sunday afternoons, mild indie rock that feels like cool fall air, and walking on pine needles, early 2000’s alternative that smells like cinnamon and my mothers

    Stepping out of the front door of my house, I was immediately greeted by the bite of the crisp morning air. My nose had turned a bright shade of pink that can only be brought forth by the chill of winter.

Dear best friend--

If you were killed, I wouldn’t be at your funeral. 
I would be in jail, for killing the person who killed you.

So much of the time people think you need to "talk things out" especially if you feel you've failed or they feel you've failed.