All posts filed under: Featured

RUNAWAY GIRL ♡ PART ONE

I KNOW NOW THAT THE DARKNESS I HAD SEEN WAS MY OWN SHADOW. * * * Cut it off, run now. Don’t look back. You must go missing for him to learn how to miss you. I pack my proverbial suitcase and head for the door. I look back and know that what is left will not be the same if I returned. But returning is not an option, at least not now. I must learn to keep my feet moving past the door, out to the street, into a cab and set dynamite across the bridge as I cross over the canyon. Never to return. Without him, I may never know if this house we painted pink would have ever been a home. With him, the walls breath in staggered paces, huffing and puffing as if their lungs had been filled for centuries with the toxic fumes of my own self-loathing—gasping to make out the word: “Run.” * * * But I do stop running. I return. From winter in Phoenix to a 79-degree night …

I Turned a Man Into the Devil In Order to Rebuke Him

I turned a man into the devil in order to rebuke him. We did the dance. But never kissed. I didn’t want to lose him. *** [Year 24] I need you to hear me. Why can’t you see me? Don’t I deserve more precedence than this? The hardest part about all of this is that you live three thousand miles away. I lose all focus on my daily tasks; my mind is filled with thoughts of you, my dear. I am sick with fever, I got ass for days but today I don’t feel like it’s enough. I want to be enough for you. Am I enough for you? Tell me I’m the one. I need to hear it. You tell me why you love me but it’s not enough. My best friend thinks it’s cute but he’s the opposite of me: a hopeless romantic. I don’t trust him on this but I appreciate his fondness for your words because I know he cares. And he knows I care about you. I want you to …

I Have Always Known Who I Am but I Didn’t Know I Was Enough

Photos by Daniela Prieto.  [Year 24] Believing you are enough is really fucking hard. If a person calls me their soul mate, I’ll be enough, I thought. If I move to New York City, I’ll be enough.  If I’m amazing at my job, I’ll be enough. If I have many friends, I’ll be enough. These are the thoughts that became my way of living. And I was seemingly quite good at accomplishing each of these feats of gaining validation…of feeling enough. But as I looked closer, the more I realized, this had everything to do with me and nothing to do with what I thought defined me. The person I called soul mate didn’t know how to love the things about me I was insecure about (my writing, how I dressed, my body). I moved to New York City but felt so isolated because I didn’t actually think I deserved to be here.  Getting validation at a job doesn’t mean anything in the long-run if your job isn’t aligned with who you are. When I …

If You Voted for Donald Trump, You’re Trash

“Can we all just get along now and be friends again?” No, no we can not. What privilege you must have to overlook the racist, homophobic, xenophobic, transphobic, misogynistic beliefs of the Trump platform. What a lovely thought to come together now after half of America has shown themselves. Well we will not be friends. My only regret is not formally dragging trump supporters as abrasively as I could have as the election went on. From within my lungs I feel the pressure to speak and to help put an end to hatred and white lashing in this country. All I can do is to continue to live openly and loudly as I can, to embrace and celebrate my faggotry like an “I Voted” sticker and love the fuck out of my disenfranchised minority brothers and sisters. I will be a light within the darkness of this dark new era, and we will be lights for each other. This election is a win for white supremacy, a win for protecting the privileges of whites and declaring …

The Next Chapter

Photo by Sara Nevels. Two years ago I was fresh out of college without a plan and no direction. All I knew was that I wanted to live between an intersection as both artist and career-woman, building a life that allowed me to grow in both. I made the decision to follow my career path first and it has brought me to an understanding of myself and my creativity I wouldn’t have known while sitting in my room simply dreaming up ideas. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, planning and dreaming isn’t always the best approach, it’s the doing that advances you toward your life purpose, and in action is when you are able to transform. Looking back I see I was getting glimpses as to who I would become, and now I’m beginning to take form with confidence and strength. Can’t believe I’ll be 25 in two months. Yay for self-awareness. More related articles: Reinventing Your Future Know Your Worth The Lesson I Learned In Letting Go of a Toxic Lover

How I Rose to Power in Sixth Grade and Got Scammed by My Teacher

Photo by Orlando Pelagio As an elementary school student, I was on fire. At an early age though, I also understood that I was controlling and full of myself. In first grade, I was the annoying kid who raised their hand to read just so I could show off the fact that I had been practicing at home in my room, devouring all of the Roald Dahl books I could find at the school library. It’s what landed me the role of ‘Narrator’ in our first grade production of The Great Kapok Tree. By second grade I solidified my role as teacher’s pet and became the adoptive child of my favorite teacher, Mrs. Winston. She was everything to me. She taught me all about other cultures and religions, including her Jewish family traditions. Her life seemed so much more fascinating than my boring Christian household. But in third grade, I wanted to fit in with the other kids. When my teacher told me that I was excelling at a fifth grade reading level, I tried to play dumb. I was put in the reading group …

I Thought I Had Walking Pneumonia but It Was Actually Depression

Photo by Orlando Pelagio.  The following takes place during the month of August 2016. I was glad I could squeeze in an appointment during my trip to Arizona. The nurse called me back to see my doctor. First she told me to get on the scale to check my weight. The number was shocking. For the past few years, I have never weighed more than 160 pounds and would fluctuate regularly between 154-160. Upon stepping on the scale, I weighed 188 pounds. “There must be some mistake. Should I take off my shoes?” I asked, even though I know science doesn’t work that way. “No, that won’t be necessary. This scale is accurate.” She said. The nurse proceeded to take me back to where I would be seen by my doctor. I had all my symptoms listed and ready to go because I am prepared, boo boo. I don’t enjoy going to the doctor, the dentist, (or the clinic) so I am always sure that when I do go, I am ready to let them know what’s going on …

7 Downsides to Having Resting Friendly Face

Hello, boo. It sure has been a while. A lot has happened in the past few weeks, like moving to Brooklyn and what not. But besides that, same old, same old. Anyhoo-today I’d like to talk about something that often goes undiscussed. I’m talking about RESTING FRIENDLY FACE, my friends. A condition that’s pretty much the opposite of RESTING BITCH FACE (RBF) and in many cases causes just as many awkward situations. Sometimes appearing warm and approachable isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Here are 7 downsides to having resting friendly face: 1. Strangers feel like they can tell you their problems. “Oh, what did you say? You and your wife recently divorced and you’re still in love with her? Oh boy, what a pickle you’re in, sir!” This is literally something that’s happened to me. To all my RFF brothers and sisters out there, you know what I’m talking about. You could just be casually browsing the produce section for avocados to make a shit ton of guacamole for your best friend’s upcoming bachelorette …

WONDROUS: Chapter Three

Read Chapters One & Two here.  * * * THAT NIGHT I think my problem is that I care too much. He appeared as the jester of the premises but his job was guarding the door. His Levi’s had small tears in the knees, his cowboy hat tipped forward as a toothpick flicked up and down like a light switch from the left corner of his mouth. He was checking ID’s. Eddy went first, then Bryson. Then it was my turn. He examined my photo for a smooth ten seconds. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell if this was you. Your hairline is farther back now than it is in your photo.” But still, I was allowed to pass. I trickled inside. The guy who charged for cover let me pass by. Boys don’t have to pay cover at a place like this. Country music blared over the speakers. Disco lights spun around the room as men danced in congruent circles wearing cowboy hats and flannel tucked in the waist of their skinny blue jeans, belt buckles …