Category: Writing

Gone.

I wanted my friends to think I was cooler and just like them. I wanted the boy I liked to know that I liked him, without actually saying anything (because that one time I said something, it was humiliating. Never again.) I wanted people to think I was important, because when I tried to stand…

Read more Gone.

Remember the Trees

There’s snow gently falling on top of scattered pine needles that fell from Christmas trees, hacked from the earth before their time. Never will they grow tall and stately and provide a furry coat, a silent carpet from a far-off hillside; instead they are adorned with baubles and bright lights, in a less sympathetic synthetic…

Read more Remember the Trees

My Country

I’ve finished another pack of gum again, and it’s getting to be an expensive habit. There’s something about these icy walls and that cold marble that makes me just want to chew and grind my teeth; a constantly moving fortress that has to shift and adapt to the tricky armies and harsh crosswinds. They say…

Read more My Country

Jump

My toes are touching the edge of the curb and to jump off would to be to leap down into something of which I cannot see the bottom. I know it looks limitless here, on the street, even though really I’m simply perceiving the reflection of water on the tarmac. Dark matter, perhaps, without beginning,…

Read more Jump

Just a Dream (?)

She was walking with the others called to march up the stairs to sky-high blue seating, industrial and unapologetic in its upholstered shroud. Everything was the same dirty water shade of blue, and under her feet the hastily prepared metal steps sounded their alarm. This meeting was not normal. This day was not normal. She…

Read more Just a Dream (?)

Faith. Trust. Pixie Dust.

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan She left the yoga studio half running, half walking in the drizzly insanity of a morning where the train was late, the practice was revealing and work beckoned with a curled, outstretched finger. Balancing better than she had…

Read more Faith. Trust. Pixie Dust.

Mornings

There’s something to be said for rising early, for being among the first on the train, a touch bleary-eyed, coffee still warm from the French press from which it was just poured. The light of the subway car is harsh and apt to make anyone look unflattering before the light has time to break across…

Read more Mornings

Weight of Those Words

I deal in words. Stupid statement, I know, but I am fascinated by the way that one can be totally and utterly precise with language even in today’s age of texting “call u l8” which, admittedly, I only text my mom because she has an old, smaller phone and brevity is key. In speech and…

Read more Weight of Those Words

The Light and the Dark

Yoga teaches us to remember balance. Yoga teaches us to unite with our selves and with the practice and with one another. Yoga shows that, in Seane Corn’s words, we possess both the light and the dark, and must learn to reconcile, rather than recoil from, both of these parts of ourselves. [The quotes are…

Read more The Light and the Dark