The way I see it is there are three types of “inbox exs”.
The lonely inbox ex. He probably wants to hookup or even get back together. He realizes he lost something great and now regrets his life. He also can’t get any other girl to smile at him so he’s feeling small and lonely. It’s sad.
The angry inbox ex. He’s victimized himself, made you a “b*txh*, and told all his pickup truck friends that HE broke up with YOU. In his message, he makes use of all the curse words he’s learned in his however many years on earth and let all his “feminazi” frustration out on you. It’s also sad.
The apologetic inbox ex. He’s moved on, realized though you may have damaged his pride, he may also have hurt you. He has a new girlfriend but his conscience is keeping him up at night. He’s in your inbox to make amends. This one is no longer sad.
The first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from. Continue reading →
In December of 2016 I had the opportunity to visit “the greatest city in the world” with the greatest traveling partners in the world.
Meet the crew, known as “Future Everything”. We consist of a high-strung photographer, a diabetic closeted artist, a Broadway-crazed wannabe, and an obscenely blunt future Harpers Magazine writer. Continue reading →
I was never a big “flower person”. I’m still not. I love nature and I love flowers and greenery and gardens but I don’t know a lot about them. I don’t know the different flowers or what type thrives and which climate. For the longest time I didn’t even have an answer to the question “what’s your favorite flower?” Because the only flowers I could think of were roses and daisies and those weren’t my favorites.
But I’ve finally found my answer to that question and that’s succulents.
I always thought that your favorite flower was a good way to know the kind of person you are. Continue reading →
“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” was the mantra he heard day and night. The words were whispered against his ear, shouted from the roof, scratched into his skin by the people who were supposed to love him.
“Weak,” the insult is spat his way after he once again let tears slip out of his deep, hot eyes.
“Control yourself,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over his chest and turning on to his side.
His phone started singing promptly at three am that night. He slapped the ‘off’ button and pushed the blanket to the floor, exposing his sweating legs to the cool, sharp air. He tugs on his dirty pair of jeans and a large sweatshirt before fishing the worn bag out from under his bed. Continue reading →
Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, finals studying and jumping in piles of leaves. Also Alicia’s birthday month, but what a lot of writers know November as is something much different, and much more horrifying than anything Halloween brought that year.
Also known as National November Writing Month.
What is NaNoWriMo? Basically, it’s a non profit organization, a challenge, and a writers wonderful, terrifying party. Continue reading →
And I can’t find a single thing to complain about.
And yet, sometimes, I just want to lie down, watch a sad movie, and hold my cat.
I don’t really have an answer for that. I know there’s some sort of scientific, medical reasoning, but I couldn’t tell you. There’s some spiritual reasoning, and I don’t want to tell you. And mostly, it’s just the exhaustion of healing. Continue reading →