I don’t miss anyone as much as I miss who I once was when I looked in the mirror.
“Yes, I am allowed to pick and choose what I divulge to others. And, as a matter of fact, I’m allowed to change my mind.”
I’m tired of this vicious internal cycle of unrealistic expectations, ultimate failure, abuse. I have the whole damn society to do that for me, and here I am, doing the work. Typical.
She was beautiful and funny. She was cautious, yet spontaneous. She was certainly insecure but so, so brave. She was so many things, all at once.
My parents hissed, howled, gnashed their teeth at me in order to prepare me for “the real world” […]
Chicago. I lost myself here. I found myself here. And now I’m ready to get the hell out of here.
Living with mental illness is a struggle in every sense of the word. Not only are you dealing […]
At 25, I realize my father hasn’t met anyone of significance in my life, just these constant fictitious characters in the stories that helped me feel American.
When I hit the pavement, I feel like I’m flying. It’s the one time of the day that I feel the most like myself.
“I wouldn’t define myself as an alcoholic, despite the doctors scare tactics. But I believe that because my problem doesn’t fit into the definition of alcoholic, it’s almost as though I’ve given myself permission to stay immersed in this problem I have.”