She slept naked during the fall and winter because her radiator heated her apartment to an unbearable temperature. It would be 40 degrees outside, she lived in California so her winters were mild, and she would have all her windows open and a fan on. The fan was also for
When you broke up with me two weeks ago I barely cried once you left the apartment. I stood behind the door you just exited and I locked the door and I called my mom. She was at dinner with my dad because it was Friday night. I wasn’t sobbing
I don’t know how to do this. I hate this so much. This waiting. I’m crazy. When I am in here. In my head, I feel crazy because I am just waiting for you to decide that I am crazy and you don’t want me anymore. I cry really hard
You are a beginning and beginnings scare me. Beginnings are unknown. Beginnings are risky. I used to chase the unknown. I used to thrive in beginnings. Beginnings are euphoric. They have all the potential. They have all the beauty that starts getting overlooked when time moves forward. you are a
I wanted to be a true artist, but I really didn’t believe in my art. My art being my writing. I sat in class watching my professor. She was tall and slender. It looked like she didn’t eat enough. You’d think I would believe in my writing more now that
I’ve worked at a mental health residential facility for almost six years now. That wasn’t the plan. A friend of a friend worked for the company. She got me the job so that I could make rent while I was getting my MFA in creative writing. The plan was to
When I first moved to the lake, I saw two raccoons crossing the street with some kind of white animal. From afar, I thought it was a white cat with her raccoon friends, but upon closer inspection, I saw that it was an albino raccoon. When I got into my
The clock stood in the hallway. It didn’t go with my home. It was out of place. An outsider. If the objects in my home came to life at night like what happens in the Beauty and the Beast, it would be the outcast of the group of talking home decor. I didn’t mind that
I am at the mercy of my first readers these days. Waiting to see their opinions on a manuscript I know isn’t finished. The more time I spend away from the manuscript, the farther away I feel from that version of myself within it. She was lost and stubborn and
