Dear writers of trauma, You and I both know that writing about trauma can be cathartic in any form, be it fiction or nonfiction, novel or personal essay. We are encouraged, as writers and storytellers and trauma survivors, to “write our truth” so we can heal but there is an underlying occurrence that I don’t... Continue Reading →
His Room
I met him in the Spring—by accident.He was sweaty that first day, like hehadn’t showered in weeks, though the real culpritwas the scorching heat of the sun that seemed to have no end.Our friendship grew into a tangled web of danger,and trying to navigate his room was harder thana ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope.I felt... Continue Reading →
On the Rare Mornings I Feel Too Much
On the rare mornings I feel too much, my heart slams itself against my trachea and the world nestles hard on my esophagus. It is not unlike a hummingbird flinging itself against a still, sharp, rain-washed window. On the rare mornings I feel too much, my breathing collapses upon itself, repeatedly, like someone squeezing my... Continue Reading →
Sometimes It Doesn’t Work
Don’t let the midnight swallow you whole and make you forget how beautiful the sunrise is.
Post-Nap Writing Session 1: Panic Attack
You find yourself in a room with a man from your past. You do not know or remember how you got into this room, whether it is a hotel room or part of a house. The only thing you know is you’re with this man. Now, this man never reveals his face. But you remember,... Continue Reading →
Musings of a Wanderer 