identity
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Typing out a message to my mom proved far more difficult than I thought it would be. I was on my tenth draft of essentially a long-winded “Hello. How have you been,” when there was a knock at the door. I clicked the lock button and watched the phone screen shift to black, sucking
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Ava left the room still talking about her final three college choices. After the door shut, I sat there for another moment, staring at the clock, trying to shake the ghost of a boy who wasn’t a boy anymore. It was honestly embarrassing the hold Henry still had on me. I was a grown
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It had been five years since I’d seen Henry last. I’d walked across the stage at graduation to the deafening sound of my father’s air horn and my mother’s shrill voice screaming “That’s my daughter,” as I clutched my high school diploma to my chest and smiled. The sound of my mother’s pride tore
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The next few months were largely spent explaining to my mother how I had never been it for Kyle and desperately trying to convince her that he had never been it for me either. That our love for Aunt Jules and my mom had been the chain holding our futures together. Without one of
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Author’s Note: Hello readers! I’m excited to share the beginning of a story that’s been taking shape in my mind. “Chapter one” is the first installment of what I envision becoming a longer work. I’ve decided to publish this story chapter by chapter, week by week, as it develops. This is a project that I’m
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Perhaps I’ll be enough, when I can Relish in the pain, of Eating far too little, and Telling everyone I’m okay, as I pull my corset Tighter, my body Yearns to be free. Torn is my identity As I paint, pluck, and prod Sculpting their idea of beauty To cover up my flaws Each fracture
Ink & Interruptions 