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53. Trying to Never Say ‘Love’ at Twenty-Four
My drafts file, at this point, is one giant mess of different versions of the same story about Love that I just cannot bring myself to post because who bloody cares and what on EARTH would I say?! I remember being quite young when I started to wonder why every single song ever sung on the radio seemed to be…
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52. Trying to Turn Twenty-Four
Hurricane PoemEnter stage rightFirst act and sceneAnd all the rest, sureYour senses deceive you Your eyes convince youThat watching the wind gustWill change its directionDampen its forceYour stomach achesHolds hostage all you’ve managedPartially digested, you thinkYour tongue moves to make declarations of We wantWhat follows inaudibleOver her cackleAn intermission A dictator’s pauseMercy, maybeAn argument could even be made forFair playThe…
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51. Trying to Hurricane Prep at Twenty-Three
Hurricane days feel like lost days. I look at my calendar and feel like crossing out this whole week. After I crossed out all of last week, too, I feel exhausted. Maybe it’s because when I was in school, hurricanes that cancelled class added days onto the end of the school year. Can I add these days onto the end…
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50. Trying to Assemble My Junk Drawer at Twenty-Three
When I go to Tallahassee from Sarasota, I drive “the back way” all my family and sister-cousins and brother-cousins and me, we call it, simply, “the back way” and there is a small shop, perfect for a stretch of the legs and absolutely impossible for a single woman driving after nightfall, that sells CBD cigarettes and when I tell you…
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49. Trying to Furnish an Apartment I Cannot Afford at Twenty-Three
Moving into a new apartment and fielding questions from strangers like, “how much are you paying?” even though everyone knows you should never ask a woman her wage… Wondering about what I need and realizing that ‘need’ is a strong word like, does anyone really need a paper towel holder? Painfully committed to maintaining my public persona and also privately…
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48. Trying to Spring a Trip to Mallorca at Twenty-Three
Day 1: I landed after dark. The plane was late out of Gatwick. After a short overnight at my gran’s, I felt refreshed and the delay was manageable; England just wanted to hold on a bit longer, a bit tighter, and I consented. Having only decided on Palma two days prior and having little-to-no previous knowledge of the destination, I…
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47. Trying to Do it All Alone, Still at Twenty-Three
Do you believe in destiny? Do you believe that there is one path and that whichever decisions you make are the decisions you were made to make? What happens at the end of along the way the paths you never chose? the paths you chose not to choose? I am on a train to East Grinstead. I slept three nights…
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46. Trying to Let the Dishes Pile Up at Twenty-Three
Recently I watched, in the cinema, a movie called Thelma. Thelma, in conversation with her friend, struggles to understand why anyone would want to spend their last days in a care center; she begs to know whether he doesn’t feel suffocated by choicelessness and smothered with unsolicited concern. Her friend says something sad and quite sweet, something about how his…
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45. Trying to Sit Side-By-Side at Twenty-Three
Last night, we were two sirens whose somehow singular gravity center pulled with enough force to deafen even Nikola Tesla’s cousin’s great-grandson. When you and I sit side-by-side, I vibrate higher and sink deeper at the same time; I get so wonderfully lost in the vision we become, like a fully embodied desert mirage. There is a street in Tallahassee…
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44. Trying to Write A Letter to The Person Who Burglarized My Car This Morning at Twenty-Three
To whomever it may concern, The officer asked me if I wanted to press charges and I wanted to ask whether you had a family to feed but instead I just said, Yes because, well, it seemed like there’d be extra paperwork if I wanted all my questions answered. My first thought when I realized what you had stolen from…
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Trying To at Twenty-Five: The Blog 