This is part of a three-year exploration of the Siren archetype that involves moving from survival to stillness, and finally, to sovereignty. For the last seven years, the ground wouldn't stop shaking. I thought I was being punished, but I was being uncoupled from the need for anyone else’s permission. In the chaos, I reached… Continue reading The Sovereign Siren
When I was young, it was easy for me to love. I handed out my heart like there was an infinite supply, like it was a thing that couldn't be dented, or bruised, or tossed aside. There was no math in my affection or comprehension of the harm others could do. At that age, love… Continue reading Here Anyway
In farming, there is a season where the land is left unsown. To anyone passing by, the field looks empty. Quiet. Even wasteful, especially when the sun is high and the growing season is in full swing. It can look like neglect. Like laziness. Like something is being missed. But that stillness isn’t absence. It’s… Continue reading The Fallow Season
My heart has called me home. There was a certain sheepishness as I followed her call; I hadn't realized I'd abandoned her throne, leaving nothing but dust on her seat. Stress and anxiety had lured me away, whispering that my value lay in the lands of others. The relentless machine of obligation overwhelmed me. I… Continue reading My Heart
Insecurities are an interesting thing. We treat them like small, shameful secrets, yet we allow them to dominate large swaths of our lives. For some, that insecurity might be a vice; for others, it’s the shape of their body or the weight of a decade-old mistake. We live in constant fear that we’ll be "branded"… Continue reading And It Worked
I used to fear the word content. I heard it as a heavy, rusted anchor, a settling of the soul into the silt of the mundane. I thought it meant the end of the climb, the extinguishing of the fire, the quiet surrender of a heart that had simply stopped trying to grow. I saw… Continue reading Already Home
Memory is a story we tell ourselves to survive; the body is the truth we cannot edit. When I was young, I was molested by a babysitter’s son. I didn’t remember it for a long time. My young mind did what it needed to do to survive. It folded the memory neatly and tucked it… Continue reading What I Wasn’t Taught Was From Whom
Lately, I’ve been trying something new. I’m not curating the experience.I’m not forcing connection.I’m not providing insight or entertainment on demand. I’m just… arriving. And it’s making me feel acutely aware of myself, unexpectedly. Not in a self-love way. Not in a “finally at peace” way. More in the way you feel when someone pulls… Continue reading What to Do With My Arms
The car was silent. The only sound was the tick-tick-tick of the engine cooling in the school parking lot. It’s just armor, and it looks heavy. Paige’s words weren't an echo. They were truth. Halley didn't drive home. Not right away. She drove to Mira's. It was an instinct. A pull, a "force" that had… Continue reading Halley: The Re-Direction
The "force" doesn't get to be sad. Not in public. The "force" gets to be angry, funny, or "unbothered." So Halley chose "unbothered." She was in the raw, hollowed-out aftermath of Kai, but she performed "fine" with terrifying skill. She screened Mira's calls, letting them go to voicemail, only to text back hours later: Just… Continue reading Halley: The Mirror
