it’s been some time since I’ve known you recognized you and craved you i want to cry. why did i run from you? why did i run, when you are how i know i feel, when you are how i know that i am human that i think and desire …

I almost reached my potential the other day. Almost, but not quite. I almost got off my ass and got started on my lengthy list of summer goals and personal dreams, finally given all the time in the world to do everything I’ve ever wanted. I could read all the…

I am on the brink of being consumed by my clutter. Just to write this very post, I had to make a clear square of space upon my desk of knickknacks and papers and books and water bottles. For a while now, I have been struggling with clutter in my…

Today I played chess against my oldest brother, George. And lost. It’s nothing new, I’ve only won one game of chess ever, and it was against that very brother in a nail-biter of a match. He claims he was caught off guard by my moves, probably because they are very…

My big-ass nose. I have finally learned to love her. My nose has always been big, although I’ve definitely grown into her much more — thankfully. For almost all of my life until now, the thought of people seeing me talk or laugh from the side brought me endless torture. …

I stand in front of the mirror probably a million times a day. Half of those times, I’m fixing my hair, brushing teeth, putting on mascara, adjusting my outfit, or just having the famous pre-shower, body positivity session. And yet I can say that there has only been a handful…

Do you hear that? That voice? Yes. Do you hear it, feel its shape, gauge its depth? Who is it, this voice? It is you. You never notice it, You pay it no mind; Funny thing is, It is your mind. Observing it too intently, attempting to identify it, trying to trace…

I knew I was growing up when I started liking mushrooms. Long gone were the days of making a face and saying, “Ew. They smell like dirty dishwater” — (they really do). Now, seeing sautéed mushrooms in a dish tips the scale in favor of that entrée: Sautéed Mushrooms vs…

A short story I wrote for my junior-year creative writing class Polished claws crushed the cigarette into the tray, a tail of smoke hissing in protest. Waiting was the worst pastime. Penelope hated waiting: there’s more time to think. …