Posts
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the definition of election day:
sitting in bed close to 7 am waiting for the election tracker to light up.
sitting in bed close to 8 am doomscrolling through election websites knowing it's all futile now.
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cold realizations at 7:46 am on election day
no matter what we pray,
no matter what we cry,
no matter what the news anchors deadpan
away,
no matter what the truth is,
no matter the color of the sky,
no matter the eleven years i've waited
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not
every day my friend asks me
how many days.
every day my answer shrinks
and we shudder
willing ourselves to believe in light and truth and good
but can't help whispering
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first breakup
you were the first person my age i'd ever met
who loved The Simpsons as much as i did.
you nodded when i said i was secretly Lisa Simpson,
or maybe Hermione Granger,
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heartbreak
you'd think i'd hate the way i'm bleeding
out
through the cracks in my heart
but it's an exhalation,
relief
because the worst part is when you
turn
away from me and the worst part is when you
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contemplating life on a gondola ride in autumnal vermont
fall isn't what you think it is.
fall isn't
pumpkin spice lattes and
smoky bonfires and
cinnamon candles and
your new maroon woolly cardigan that was on sale for
Thanksgiving or Halloween or whatever
Loves
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Grow(n) Up
I don’t want to grow up
Because I don’t want to pay taxes
Because I want someone to take care of me
Because I’m a little bit scared.
I am grown up
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A Letter for Everyone on YWP – One Last Time
Dear YWP,
The first time I wrote you a letter I was 13.
The second, 15.
I'm 18 now; how time flies, my lovely people.
And this is the last letter.
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I just really hope she wins.
She's finally ahead in the presidential race. The way my hope lifted when I heard that news. And the disbelief on my face? How, after ten months? I was sure I was going to be screaming from my porch on election day, "Why, why?
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Hiding
I'm tired of hiding
that I reside in the gay side of youtube.
I'm tired of hiding that I went to the GSA
even though they didn't want me to.
I'm tired of deleting my search history.
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Glimpse
It is a wandering
sort of day
(wandering mind
wandering feet
wandering eyes)
before I find the camera.
It looks old enough
that I wonder
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Reflections of a Tired Girl
I am an enigma; forever stepping in front of mirrors attempting to angle myself in the perfect position to be loved; always making myself smaller than I seem in order to be seen.