I didn’t plan motherhood, although I always knew I would someday be a mom. You decided to come when you were ready rather than letting me plan and connect the dots. From the time I saw the positive on the (10) pregnancy tests to the time I saw you in my arms, bawling and squirming, is still a blur. I wanted to write you a letter to tell you how I felt. To apologize for not bonding right away. To explain why we are always harder on you. You are our little lioness, but also our little mouse: sensitive, but resilient. When you were born I waited for the overwhelming protective instinct to envelop me – that love to wash over and overtake me. But it didn’t happen. Instead, I felt overwhelmed, tired, and a disconnect. I had post-partum depression, and you were colicky. It was not your typi...


My father often tells me it is something strange in my DNA. It never occurs to him that my DNA is just a compilation of his and my mother’s. Thankfully, it does not overpower my life to the extent that I need to be medicated, but that does not mean I am not at the mercy of it constantly. It is what shapes my happiness, my sadness, my empathy, my anxiety. It is what dictates my day, who I will talk to, how I will talk, who I will be. I feel things intensely. When I arrived in Boulder for college, only knowing the comfortable high school I had left behind in my Philadelphia suburb, I was ready for my new life. I was extroverted and friendly the first month, but fell victim to the vulnerability and unfamiliarity as others started to settle in. As quickly as I had opened up, I had violently sh...


Journal Entry: February 1, 2018 Lesley Ware   Tomorrow will mark a year since I moved out of our apartment. Tonight is the anniversary of the evening that I packed my bags. You did not understand why I was leaving. You thought I was being mean. Last month, over coffee, you told me that you get it now. When I close my eyes I can still hear you in my head, even though we no longer sleep in the same bed. Like a robot that cannot be rebooted, I cry sometimes. So much has been left behind. Once dubbed “the coolest couple in Brooklyn.” We complimented each other: you charming and diplomatic / me vibrant yet reserved. Born on the cusp, you are the 7th sign of the zodiac one day before the 8th. I’m the 9th sign, positive and optimistic. I guess the universe saw that we were too powerful. Not ...


Dreaming With Death That summer night when I met him, green eyes flickering from my dangling feet to my wonder-filled gaze, I figured even Death could fear.   He sits through the boredom of my days, through lectures and quiet tests, waiting to spend an end of the day with a warm tea as he plays with the curled tip of my hair.   Of all the colors, Death’s lips was pale blue with a rosy dew, tasting like cherries, smooth like whipped cream and warm as the start of January.   With our backs on the bed in cold June, under cozy bedsheets we’d trace the ceiling, paint it with innocent feelings. I embraced the comfort of a cloak in which Death felt so lonely.   ——————————————- An apology Since my ea...


Alex’s paintings are based on the traditional Southern urban landscapes and architecture that surround her in Charleston. Employing the dreamy color palette abundant in the Charleston environment, she contrasts these images with meticulous paint application. Through this exploration of architectural individuality proliferant in Charleston, she aims to encourage a thoughtful dialogue concerning Charleston’s historical significance, forgotten spaces in-between and the impact of gentrification. Alex graduated from Savannah College of Art and Design with a BFA in Painting and Printmaking in 2012. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina and paints in her home studio. www.alexwaggoner.com @alexwaggoner alex@alexwaggoner.com        


I am a Woman A woman with more than just a pudenda you can taste and a chest to lean on. I am a Woman, A strong woman because the strength I have within me carries me through 12 months of bleeding, bet you won’t survive even after a month. I am a Woman, A human kind that produces Kings and Queens within the Kingdom of planet earth. I am a Woman, A woman birthed with super natural powers to keep my head up high and fight for acceptance and value within a so called “man’s world”. I am a Woman, A woman I choose to be and NOT should be! A wise woman because I endure so much pain than my opposite human kind. I am a Woman, A woman who leads her way out of the kitchen into a man’s world and everyone stands still as she gracefully tackles what they concluded she shouldn’t and would never be able t...


Motherhood is a complicated, messy job. There are a lot of ups and downs, and it’s easy to get caught up in if you’re doing it right. But here’s the thing, we’re all figuring it out as we go and are learning on the job. This is a whole new thing, not only for you, but also to your little one. Instead of getting yourself worked up on all the things you’re doing wrong, I’ve found it helpful to look at how hilarious it is to be a mom. There are so many ridiculous things that happen on a daily basis, so why not embrace it and laugh at your silly, new life. Here are some examples: Guess that stain – who knew you could have so much fun trying to figure out if that brown spot on your shirt is coffee or poop! Mama Bear Mentality/Strength – how your new super power can protect your baby...


The image is hard to forget: women standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity as they marched through the streets of Washington, D.C., an army donning bright pink knit hats with cat ears. Pussyhats. The Pussyhat immediately became a symbol of the Women’s March and the women’s movement as a whole, and it’s hard to imagine that the creator of The Pussyhat Project had trouble finding the confidence to use her voice for change. But Krista Suh, now the author of “DIY Rules for a WTF World: How to Speak Up, Get Creative, and Change the World,” admits that it was something that she struggled with. “Honestly, it was perfection,” said Krista on what was silencing her voice. She had ambition, but she harbored a fear of messing up. Krista felt that the Women’s March was time to speak up after self-p...


You left me broken and bruised, black and blue; And you expected your absence To destroy what was left of me And reduce me to a pile of darkened ashes. But it was only after you left That I was finally able to breathe. And after I had untangled all of your lies Out of my curls, That I realized That I was never the princess You’d claimed you’d rescued. Instead I was the dragon you’d chained up.       Author: Nyx Email: nyxpoetry60@gmail.com Author Bio: Aspiring poet, Coffee Addict, Cat Lover. Link to social media or website: Instagram @nyxpoetry60  


I want to write what’s important. 1. I want to write falling in love— my chin to his shoulder blade, his palm against the lips of my waist— pressed. I want to write thinking, this is it.   2. I want to write unloved, unreciprocated his eyes looking below me, above me— never at me.   3. I want to write still loving you— I want to write holding on— driving 28 miles forward and right back. I want to write the four unanswered knocks at your door and how strong my knuckles felt. I want to write how I thought I could change things. I longed to write control.   4. I want to write who we were— we were a love that couldn’t wait a second we were a 2 a.m.-8 a.m. schedule we were, “I can’t leave, I don’t want to leave…” (10 times over) we were coming back because that car door didn’t fu...


Like most pre-college students, I had a summer job. When I started going to school full-time this past fall, while still working, I quickly became overwhelmed. The drive from school to work was long, in addition to having a seven to nine hour shift. Most students are available for the federal work-study program. It’s part of your financial aid, and at my school we work 15 hours a week on campus. While I may not get many hours, I love it for a completely different reason. There’s no drive I go to work right after class. I don’t have to waste the time or gas money on going somewhere else. Truthfully, I’m more worried about the time then gas money. We’re all busy as college students. As an athlete, sometimes I’m not even at home for two hours before I go to sleep. They work around your schedu...


  Author: Jennifer B. Larson Email: jenniferblarson@gmail.com Author Bio: Jennifer B. Larson is a special education teacher in Chicago Public Schools, a punk-rocker, writer and illustrator. She draws the comic strip “Emo Grrrls” and runs Disappearing Media. Check out their new card-game, Douchebag CEO. Link to social media or website: http://www.disappearingmedia.com

Lost Password