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A pen

I used to have this pen – my favourite pen. Every day, I would write with it. On broad elaborate sheets or dirty bathroom stalls, on tiny journal pages or the inside the crevice of a book, I would find myself scribbling away little notes only I could read. It wrote beautifully. On any surface, … Continue reading

That

Dear dear, There are many ways to get out of the responsibilities of love. Start by not shaving. A little hair grows, and you look at it with interest instead of dismay. Then another one blooms and then one more and soon you find yourself covered. You laugh and convince yourself it’s okay. It’s still … Continue reading

Little room

The following was my submission for a short writing contest. I did not win. I did not expect to win. I could say that it is because I’m a loser and losers only know how to further lose, but I don’t want to seem like I’m fishing for sympathy or reactionary compliments. Instead, I post … Continue reading

Shadows of yesterday

Just yesterday, I found out I was growing up. Though such a realization may be late for a twenty-one year old to have, it came and went and now my bones rattle as I type. Each word is an epitaph. Each one is my last. This is how it happened. It was four in the … Continue reading

First gray hairs

I’m think I’m starting to get old. I have all the usual signs. First, every day feels the same. I wake. I shower. I eat. I work. I eat. I work. I eat. I work. I sleep. I repeat. Second, I’m tired even when I wake up. Especially when I do. Third, I have to … Continue reading

Pale

Below was written with the prompt: “It’s that time of the year again…” * It’s that time of year again, and Cain hated it. People were pale again. Not for fifteen years had they been this pale. And with each year, with each blizzard, each bleak season, they got worse. They diminished. They dwindled. And … Continue reading