Self-help can help, but it put pressure on me. — There’s something so tidy about order. All of the boxes checked. All the to-do list items crossed off. Accomplishment in simplicity. A routine unfolded, crease by perfect crease. Order calls to me. From across a great and vast abyss that is my own willpower, I can see its stark lines…

Once in a blue moon, the truth of shines through… — The afternoon sweltered, sunshine eking into every corner and crevice to drain sweat from formerly-unopened pores. I climbed into my father’s burnt orange Dodge pickup truck and sank into the seat, thankful for the liberating ice-cold air shooting through the vents pointed at my face. …

A day in the stereotypical life. — Wake up. See a text from a male friend who won’t leave you alone. Ignore it and get ready. Forget to take out the trash. Get yelled at by male roommate, since that’s clearly your job, just like all the household chores. Take out the trash. Get accosted by a…

The argument was over the bill. — The campus unfurled past my car windows in facades of pristine red brick and graceful nineteenth century arches, towering and ancient live oaks swaying their green ground-spilling fingertips of Spanish moss in the strange Tallahassee wind. …

I wouldn’t be alive without it. — My mom always told me I was alive for a reason. I was born into this world with a holy purpose, one I was meant to find. There were so many points at which I almost didn’t make it into the world — several health scares during my mother’s pregnancy…

What a journey that failure was. I look back on June of 2019 with a certain sort of cynicism, nowadays. I quit my retail job as an assistant manager of a vape shop and jumped deep into freelancing during that time, and I felt as though I was on the…

Stop consuming and go DO. — The swelling opening music of Dennis Wilson’s “River Song” brought me to tears today. I have memories of a sacred river of my younger years, dyed brown with silt that clings to your skin when you swim. A place cool and vivid, where humanity could shed their skins and play…

Casual addiction is more insidious than it looks. I do not enjoy being drunk. Don’t get me wrong: I have enjoyed being drunk before. But for the most part, drinking too much just makes my stomach hurt. I don’t seem to gain any euphoria from it — instead, I’m the…

A story about a girl and a race. — The only time I ever won a race, I was not happy. I was baffled. I was seventeen years old and obsessed with running. It filled my life the same way an addictive substance might — it was my every thought. Not getting faster, just sinking into that meditative place…