I was three months pregnant when my brother died. Everything around that time felt unstable. What I thought I understood about people, about family, about men—it all felt uncertain and unstable. I didn’t trust my ability to navigate any of it. I remember that feeling clearly when just
The notebook was sitting on the kitchen counter next to her purse. It looked like something she took with her to work. Or something she had been using regularly. It wasn’t hidden or tucked away—just there, out in the open. I picked it up out of curiosity. It
The last call of the night was always accompanied with the same song at my college local bar for the Thursdays Ladies Night Special. Doors open for girls at 8pm, no cover and 25 cent drafts. I didn’t like beer, but I drank it anyway. I could push through
That was the moment something in me went quiet. Not panic. Not even fear. Just quiet.
The parts of myself that were dimmed. These patterns didn’t start with me, but stayed with me. Only recently have I started to see them differently. I can't change them and make them into something they are not. I just see them more clearly and in a different light.
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