I’ve got bad habits. I don’t always listen to my voice of reason; even when I know it’s right. I turn off my phone because I’d rather not say I’m not okay, than explain why. Sometimes I fake my smile so no one will really look at me because a smile is enough these days.… Continue reading Bad Habits.
Sometimes things happen. Bad things. Things that don’t make sense and you struggle with feelings and thoughts that shake you and leave you ajar. Like the gaping wounds that surface with the suddenness of things. Not everything is meant to make sense. Some things are better left to the imagination – you can trick yourself… Continue reading Senseless.
I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 17. That was a while ago. I don’t want to be specific because I suppose, it gives this thing a lifespan of it’s own. A life-force that’s been growing with me this whole time – that terrifies me. So, for that reason, I am not ready… Continue reading “You should talk more.”
There was a time I hated the color of my skin. The brown shade that somehow, though different, was not good enough. How I hated the shape and slope of my nose. The curving thickness of my lips and the dark, kinky coils that rested on my head. Yes, there was a time I hated… Continue reading Black. Bold. Beautiful.
Battling Mental Illness. I remember the phone ringing and a few moments later, my name would be called out. “It’s for you.” Someone would say I would cringe and in a panic, I would pretend that I didn’t hear anything. But they would just keep yelling out to me. “You have a phone call.” I… Continue reading Battling Mental Illness.
Why do we write? What makes you want to dance through words and paint them on a blank page? Where do the words even come from? Anyone can write. How many of us have kept journals or diaries? Leaving pieces of ourselves on stray paper that we never shared or looked at again. The thing… Continue reading Why We Write.
Death is an awfully strange, strange thing. Feared. Misunderstood. Senseless. I sit here, thinking of all the smiles and all the sounds of laughter that used to echo from the bridges of close companions. How one day, we sat and talked about things that mattered and then how suddenly, they were gone. Like smoke in a… Continue reading Grief’s Stains.