I am nobody. Nobody is perfect. Therefore I am perfect.
Mama spends the next hour telling me that men are shit. If I carry one thing into my adult life I better take this one, Mama rants on. Her voice fades into the distance as it has come to do when she begins to lecture.
The first time I wore a two piece bathing suit I was fourteen years old. I recall the nakedness my stomach felt as it met sun and warmth. My skin tingled. I was shy. Yet, the more I fed my body with the light of the sun's reflection, the more I embraced its glow. I … Continue reading If We Have Rules Are We Free?
Writing out trauma comes with hurdles. Sometimes I plow through. Sometimes I avoid. I avoid the smells, sounds and feelings of the memory. There is hurt in there. There's a scared little girl in there. She doesn't want to have to feel it, but we do. To bring our story to life, we gotta … Continue reading She Is Rising
the dream / recurrent / dark planet of / cliffs and crevices we / leapt / trained / fought in / total darkness / only scent to / guide so / we became / adept to / aloneness and / the smell of / predators / repeat / through cycles / same space / similar … Continue reading Stream Of Consciousness | 5.4
A wise person once said, "There are three things you should never share; your relationship, your finances and your next move." It has become a mantra for my life. Years of being both vulnerable and held back at the wrong times have left me speculating my own judgment. Being alone is safer, away from the … Continue reading When Writing Out Trauma Is Crippling