cold hard bleachers

a short story

Often she found herself sitting alone, in the darkness of her bedroom before the sun came up, or along the edge of a park bench with the chill of the night filling her body, unable to see past the dimly lit sidewalk in front of, no matter the place, or time of day, she always seemed to let the silence get too loud, let the darkness persist too long, and as a result, let the cavernous, empty space inside of her grow even deeper, even wider, further beyond repair.

To say she’d spent her whole life misunderstood would be a gross understatement, a painfully trite banality, feigning even remotely to attempt to acknowledge the depth of her isolation. She’d seen a macabre of therapists to no avail; prescriptions for every antidepressant and antianxiety medication had been prescribed, and still, her insides felt empty.

There was another world inside of her mind, a world even she had only begun to access, but it was that world that kept her from feeling any sense of belonging in reality; it was that world that kept her from relating to others, from forging deep connections with her peers. She knew that world wasn’t real, and yet somehow, she also knew it would overtake her if she weren’t careful.

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real real love

I just happened to be raised by two of the coolest people in the world. I know it’s lame and nerdy, but I think my parents are really awesome and I’m incredibly thankful for them.

Parents at Campbell

Observe this ridiculous shot of my parents in their most natural state: being weird while visiting me at college.

My mom is one of the most supportive, understanding people to ever live. She is without a doubt the primary reason that a free thinking, self described hippie such as myself could grow up in the Bible belt, and go to college in an area deeply rooted in Southern decorum and tradition, and still come out of it all as wild hearted, open minded, and unique as I am. She is a better listener than I could ever be, she does not criticize others’ opinions, or belittle anyone. She has instilled in me a love of art and music and all manners of creativity. For almost 22 years she has allowed me to be exactly who I am, loved me for who that was, and expected nothing in return. She has taken care of me physically and emotionally. She is my biggest fan. Continue reading

in rear view

Couple In The Snow

A fictional story. 

I looked him in the eyes, and I hoped with every part of me, that this time we would work.

“It’s always been you, you know that right?” I mumbled, tears welling up in my eyes.

Years of back and forth flirting, hanging out, and being forced together by the occasional community function, had been building into this one final moment. I pulled my coat tighter around me, as the winter wind cut through me, bracing myself to walk away.

It had been some cruel twist of fate that we’d ended up together for the night. Somehow we’d ended up at the same post-Christmas party, both back in town to visit our families for the holidays. We hadn’t talked in months, and I’d given up my holding out on my hopeless crush in exchange for hopes and dreams of heading for the west coast at the end of the school year.

He was his typical self; too cool, crooked smile; a casual nod and a wave without ever putting his beer down. A rush of feelings washed over me, but as quickly as it had come, I pushed it away, finding my way through the crowded house in search of my friends. Continue reading