Several weeks ago I sat down to work on one of these posts from my bedroom floor for the last time... and didn't know it. Several weeks ago, I couldn't hear echos coming back to me from the same walls that had been stuffed with the last 11 years of my wild little life. Several weeks ago I HAD to be sitting on my floor to get any writing done because my desk was overflowing with homework assignments, poetry drafts, half-full nail polish bottles and the Ibuprofen tablets that kept me standing through the toughest semester yet in terms of my mental health. Things are a little bit different now. My room is empty. There aren't clothes in the closet anymore, or artwork on every wall, or twinkle lights across the top of the curtains. There aren't yesterday's shoes in the corner and there's no smeared mascara on the pillowcases. There aren't loud guinea pig squeals coming from it anymore. It's clean, and quiet, and you can hardly tell that it hosted mor...
Welcome to the stories that have made and continue to make me who I am.