If I died tomorrow, I could stand in the face of God and say that I’ve never demolished anything. But lying like that would probably buy me and one guest first class tickets to hell. It was Daddy who trained me to be a killer, a sharpshooter, a markswoman. It was he who taught me to load a ...
When He Asks You How You’re Doing
When he stops you in the hallway and asks you how you’re doing, your body freezes, your mind races, and you wonder if what you’re going to tell this man should contain any trace of the truth. You go for the one-armed church-hug, buying yourself two seconds to decide whether or not you should just ...
A Patient Witness
Sometimes I go to the movies just to feel close to my sister. She hasn’t physically departed, but our lives have diverged in such a way that one is hardly there to greet the other when she comes home. We’ve still got our record for now. Ten days is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each ...
What To Do With That Fire
What I felt were the flames. Reading Minnie’s post for WYAO April last week reignited a fire within me, licking that all-too-familiar question against my conscience: What if, What if, What if? Minnie’s post told a story similar to mine, pulling me down the rabbit hole only to slam me to my chair at ...
A Light in Cardiff
I’ll be the third to admit that silence can be deafening. But when you’re an artist and sensitive about your shit, silence can also be a relief. I don’t write the banal things on my blog. I take pieces of my past and string them into words at an attempt to make sense of this life. I pour feelings ...
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- …
- 27
- Next Page »