“You should hear what he says about you when you’re not around,” she says.
“Oh?” I say. She has my attention.
“He says your writing is too personal, that you open up and share too much,” she says.
I’m stunned by this news. To my face he’s never been anything other than complimentary. » Read more
“God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.”
-William Shakespeare, Hamlet
On countless mornings, I glimpse my reflection in the mirror and want to punch myself in the face.
Because I look like her at certain angles.
Her chin, » Read more
PTSD Is Like Grieving Your Own Death, Comforting Your Own Ghost
“You should really write fiction again,” Justin says.
I shudder. “Ugh. Why?”
He looks at me curiously. “Because you’ve got a hell of a brain. And your non-fiction is so good. It draws people in. Imagine what you could do with fiction.” » Read more
I’m thinking about Charlie Howard again. Although queer kids from Maine don’t really stop thinking about him.
If you’ve read Stephen King’s It (or watched the miniseries from the 90’s), you may be familiar with the scene where teenagers throw a gay man into the river.
But it’s not just a horrific scene. » Read more
I had my tonsils out as an adult. It’s a brutal recovery. Most people don’t know this because they think of a tonsillectomy as something kids do. A few days in bed with all the ice cream you can eat, and then you’re right as rain.
But adults don’t heal like kids do. » Read more
The geese are extra territorial at the zoo. “Must be mating season,” I say.
Skyspook nods. “The start of it anyway.”
A cacophony of honks explodes in the air. Jockeying for mates.
There are so many ducks on the water. Most of them are acting up, just like the geese. » Read more
PQ 4.7 — In what ways do I protect myself from being hurt? Do those strategies help or hinder my search for connection?
I know it’s folly to forever wait for the punch. To flinch against blows that aren’t coming. On the off chance that they might.
And yet, » Read more
“It is good people who make good places.”
The first few weeks of December always make me think of my great aunt Georgie.
I have no real memories of Grammy, her sister. Everything I do know about Grammy comes from scraps Grampy would tell me. » Read more
It doesn’t matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Page!” Skyspook says. It’s a whip to my ears. » Read more
“Why are you here today?” the therapist asked me.
I stared into the cup of tea in my hands. Three people at the counseling center had asked me if I wanted something to drink, and by the third ask, I was starting to feel extremely rude turning them down. But truth was I didn’t want it. » Read more