I grew up a perfectionist. An overachiever. Demanding myself to be better, no matter how good I already was.
Prayer as A Longing of the Soul
It's a Great Day to be Black
Turning 40
The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree
The Louder I Speak
Too
Dancing in the Darkness
Pouring Light Into Wounds
Woman Easing Into Repose
Fester, Fester, Fester
Ovarian Instinct
Into Relief
Two Halves, Same Coin
Lessons From the Fall Tree
I never noticed how much I missed seasons until I had them again.
Time stagnated, living in an eternal summer. There was no difference between February and July. Everything was the same: sunshine, pool days, palm trees and everyone telling me that I should be happy because I live in paradise.
But it wasn't paradise.
Highway 221 South
Lungs: The Organ of Grief and the Corona Virus
Psychology of a Haircut
Life in a Torn Photograph
How Many Licks Does it Take to Get to 100 Calories?
I am 21. Impulsive, reckless, young, and the epitome of self sabotage. People often tell me, “You don’t know. You have no clue what the real world is like yet.” Maybe they’re right. Maybe I don’t, but I definitely know enough. All I have ever needed to know. I know this world wants to see me wither away, the embers of my soul burned to ash, into nothingness, just like me.