self respect
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Actually, I’m my mother’s revenge. The voice she didn’t have, the boundaries she couldn’t keep, the consequence nobody expected when they mistook her kindness for permission. Her story isn’t yours to tell. But tell them all I’m coming. Not for blood. That would be too easy. I am coming for the things women like her…
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People no longer cease to amaze me in the worst way possible. Maybe that sounds cynical. It probably is. But cynicism is merely optimism after it has been mugged in a dark alley enough times to recognize the footsteps behind it. There are very few people left who aren’t looking out for themselves first. I…
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Everybody is willing to hate you until they need you again by then the relationship has changed. Not ended. Changed. There is a difference. Endings have funerals. Flowers. Black dresses. Dirt thrown over something everyone has agreed is dead. Change is crueler. Change leaves the body sitting at the dinner table. It lets the conversation…
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There is an old tailor’s shop that almost no one remembers anymore. The walls are lined with thousands of pairs of scissors. Some are polished silver. Some are black with age. Some have blades so sharp they can separate silk without leaving a thread behind. People wander into the shop every day carrying pieces of…
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There is a strange rule that governs every meaningful relationship in this life. If I cannot teach you something…If I cannot show you something…If I cannot help carry a piece of your burden… Then eventually I become decoration. If you cannot teach me…If you cannot sharpen me…If you cannot challenge me to become something greater…
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I don’t normally wake up on an average Tuesday looking for trouble. Tuesday is usually reserved for coffee, ambition, and pretending emails don’t exist for another five minutes. But every once in a while… Pettluyah clocks in for her shift. She doesn’t work often. Only when absolutely necessary. Today she adjusted her sunglasses, smiled at…
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The waitress smiled before she even reached the table. “The usual?” We all laughed. Some places don’t just serve food. They serve history. This little restaurant had watched promotions become celebrations, breakups become therapy sessions, birthdays become excuses to order dessert, and friendships survive decades that marriages sometimes couldn’t. It was my cheat meal for…
