Broken, Healing

There are pieces of me strewn along the office floor. There are parts of me hiding in the drawers of the guest room. Pieces of me hiding under my bed, thrown into the closets, sleeping under my pillow. Each pile of things represents a different part of me, of my life. They are unorganized and unmindful. They are sad and mean. They are kind and empathetic. They are reaching out to be held. Continue reading

The [open] Letter to my Father that he will never read

freshly-pressed

Dad,

Yesterday, I decided to find you.

I tried, I tried so very hard, to not need anything from you. I tried to convince myself that I could move on without you; that I could carry on with my life somehow, without ever getting an apology. I gave it my all, I swear I did. I sweat and bled and broke, Continue reading

14.

Dear Loony, You’re 14, eh? Flat chested, skinny, with a very bad dye job. Sorry to be blunt, but hun, you know it’s true. I want to tell you to just accept that your hair is dark blond, not white … Continue reading