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We had been driving for hours. Past looming forests and landfills of dust outside sleeping towns. Past motel after motel, each missing some neon letter vital to its "Welcome" sign. I had been stringing all the blacked out letters together in my mind, trying to make some sense of(more)
I want so badly to binge on freedom. To shove the weights off my shoulders and unfurl the wings I never knew I had. I want to gulp down big mouthfuls of passion like it's the only oxygen I know. I'm getting bored with this transitional routine of young(more)
I have this burning need to absorb the rhythms rippling down your spine. Peel off your layers and encase me in a chrysalis. We'll bloom together in due time.
Take a book along everywhere you go.
Read it on the bus, in the back where no one else is sitting. Read it over lunch at a place with fresh baked bread. Read it with your headphones in, but with the music off. Read it in the park, after(more)
There's no reality harder to look in the eye than the reality that we are all broken. We're no better than the glittering shards of glass embedded into our pavements. Hidden by sour wads of gum, footprints, shoe bottoms, trails of scum. Only really emerging when there's sun. We(more)
*fell asleep while*
Sandra Cisneros once said that each age is a layer that lives under our skin and forms the people we are. Sometimes we'll feel like we're in our twenties, craving novelty and neon lights. And other times we'll feel like we're twelve again, uncomfortable in ou(more)
I don't even know what this trigger is, but I feel compelled to write something anyways. In another life I could've been royalty of some kind. My father recently told me that my grandfather was once married to the sister-in-law of the president of our native country. At their(more)
Lorraine finished her dinner first and sat quietly, poking at her leftover peas until the adults stood up to clear the table. The little boy that sat across from her had stared down at his plate the entire time, refusing to touch her mom's macaroni salad. She saw his(more)
The pendulum was swinging back and forth right before the shutters closed. It came back to me as words first. Then came the images. The scrawly handwriting upon the yellowed page. The frying pan on the kitchen floor. I let the light back in before I could see the(more)
The thrumming of the trombones wavered in the air and Ernesto’s fingers restlessly drummed along to the beat. The girl he was waiting for was around the corner, folding the waist of her skirt over to expose a little more leg. She had spent the past hour pleading with(more)
The intersection between 9th St. and Radley. The second booth in Ronaldo's with the street-side view. You always said they made the best spaghetti. The park on 5th with the rusty swings and the creaky monkey bars. You covered my bruised knee with a chunk of some college t-shirt(more)
"Hello my name is Marianna. Marie for short. Never Anna. I live just East of Brooklyn. I am 23 years old. Um, the things I like to do for fun include reading, watching black and white movies, running, baking, and trying to find new ways to get some Valium.(more)
There are some nights when the restlessness in my bones becomes too much to bear. It scratches beneath my surface, causing me to writhe and contort my body as if I have been set aflame.

I've always wondered what it'd be like to be something magnificent.
You know, I hate it when people divide the world into black or white. And yes I mean racially, but no I don’t just mean that. Sometimes I wish people could see that the labels they use-the categories they put things in- that’s part of the problem. This categorizing(more)
Lani used to say the waiting is the worst part of it all.
These breaks between periods and capital letters. These mundane gaps between the peaks on the electroencephalogram...It was always a waste of time to her. I had an aversion to adrenaline as a kid, so I woul(more)