All about me. All of my inner stirrings. All of my hopes, dreams, and goals. All of my complaints, grudges, and fears. All of me.
Nothing was ever good enough. Everything was criticized. She was shut up. Shut down. Let down. Her best efforts were met with indifference. Her time was spent solely on measuring up, only to live in constant disappointment. Time passed. Distance grew. Allowing space for her own thoughts to grow. What started as a faint whisper grew into a deafening roar. She was capable. She was important. She...
I see you. Creeping back in. Creeping back into my life. It’s been years now since we fell out. No apology. No accountability. But you’re trying to come back now. The texts. The calls. I see you. Creeping back in. Pieces of me miss you. Pieces of me want nothing to do with you. Pieces still sting. Pieces still hurt. Confusion takes over. Where I do go from here? I see you. Creeping...
While you’re cuddled up on the couch, she’s hiding in the bathroom crying. While you’re enjoying your Sunday off, she’s praying for Monday to come. While you’re washing the dishes, she’s picking up pieces of a thrown plate. While you lay your head down at night, her mind is riddled with guilt, sadness, and terror. While you’re applying make-up to cover up...
“Broken,” they said. Hopeless. Useless. Worthless. She stared at the million bits of herself, scattered across the floor. For years, she had tried to pick up the pieces, only to be cut more deeply with each attempt. With little hope left, she sat in her rubble. She bathed in her tears. She lay in the ruins of her soul and drifted to sleep. She awoke with swollen eyes and a heavy heart...
The power is out. Reason unknown. A hot pre-summer day in Texas. I tell my son to take off his shirt. Don’t open the outside doors. Don’t open the fridge or freezer. Move as little as possible. It’s going to get hot… fast. And who knows how long this will last. I sit by the window. Sunlight peeks through the blinds just enough to shed some light on my journal. And my soul...
I am more than just a job title. More than a checklist of completed tasks. More than a list of words describing my appearance. More than a collection of society-assigned labels. I am more than you think. I am a book of memories. A stream of ideas and thoughts. An overflowing cup of emotions. A jar of silenced experiences. A filled-to-the-brim bucket of wants, needs and dreams. I am a vessel of...
