Embrace the Storm

“I don’t want to just go out to dinner and follow it up with a movie. I want to do something more. I want to do something that makes me feel something.”

An Impression of Angels

Out of the corner of the hole stuck something white about 5 inches thick. Intrigued we began digging with our hands only to remove the stone in its entirety. It was marble, heavy, solid and perfectly preserved. It was a gravestone.

Our Fortress

Lifeless hands begun to turn warm as fingers began to curl into the woven cover. I was flying. I had woken up in the morning only to flop over on my back and feel lifted by two bumps. Panicked I raced from my bed tearing off every layer of clothing, yes I could have stopped at my shirt, but I was panicked. I threw my back towards the mirror straining myself to see what lied behind me. It was two miniature wings. Their harden attachment had just broken my skin and old a half inch of white puffs emerged, but I knew what they were. I was changing.

Bye Dove Too

High school was so routine. Maybe I liked this routine because it was easy to follow and easy to plan. It was controllable because it didn’t change. I liked being in control. Outside life? Not so controllable. And so, when the bell rings I would race to meet Matt in the hallway for a few kisses before our next class. I would sign up for the same enhancement ( our study hall) teacher every day for all 4 years of high school.

When I Met You, Cancer

I knew you before I ever met you.

You were on the television, making a cameo in my grandmother’s soap operas. You were the extra dollar at the drug store. You were the reason behind the ribbons I’d pin to my clothing. Your name was plastered into slogans & indeed, I knew no one liked you.

The Routine of Christmas

No alarm went off, but I could feel eyes on me. Their intense glare stuck to my closed lids like a vacuum to a rug. Shuffling feet and labored breathing crept closer to my bed side; I would not move. I pinched my eyelids tighter shut and let some side drool roll down my pillow in attempt to prove my mind was within my dreams.

Love thy Love with all thy love

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was to ask questions. Not just in school or to your parents; ask questions anywhere. Have a sense of curiosity. Most importantly ask questions about each other. In the best of time, in the worst of time, one thing that remains current is regardless of your location, you most likely will run across a human. Yes, this may be the last thing you want when your world is crashing down and your forever feels more like tomorrow. It may even be the last thing you want when you’re a ray of sunshine. Regardless, these tiny human interactions that feel needless in your daily life can make all the difference. They can change a life.

How I Spent My Nights

Dealing with the overwhelming feeling of death had always penetrated my mind at the worst of times. It engulfed everything in my life and led me down to the thought of nothing being worthwhile. The thought of not being able to think. You can’t even think about not thinking. I will never be ready to die.

I don’t want to die.

To the Boy Who Told Me I Needed Chest Implants,

Thank you. You were there to kick me while I was down and make a girl already struggling emotionally and physically slide even more into helplessness. You insulted a girl who experienced lost every year; her half-brother and two uncles the most recent to this altercation. Thank you for continuing your insult with an explanation to those around that when I bent over one day you could see all the way down and “there was nothing there.”

She Called Me Bright Eyes

I don’t think you realize how much some thing or someone affects you until there gone. Or perhaps, it takes the loss of a few chances or individuals before you see the importance of embracing those moments. For me, I lost those individuals at a young age, an age which I was too naive to see the significance in listening and valuing the time with my family. I shouldn’t blame myself, but I do.

Death Be Not Proud

As my father stepped into the bathroom the kitchen phone began to ring. It was ring that echoed through the house, a ring that seemed endless as I waited for the second ring to tell me who was calling.


Four feet nothing, cotton ball puffs of hair covering her perfect skin soaked in deep wrinkles; her name was Anna. Baby butt soft hands shaky from life’s unfortunates and Mother Nature’s sad tale of growing old, her ice cream rarely made it completely in her mouth. An impressively arched back illustrating to the world that she once had carried it in its entirety on her back; she was a Holocaust survivor.