Between the Lines

A couple years ago, I was in one of the hardest times of my life. It’s, in fact, true that nobody likes you when you’re 23. I had no idea who I could trust. Even when I thought someone was worth letting in, I still couldn’t believe they didn’t have ulterior motives. What would they try to take from me? What are they gaining from me? Are they putting on a façade? Am I the monster this person says I am? Am I the good person this other person says I am? Who am I? Who am I? The constant stream of thoughts and worrying about how I was perceived overtook every part of my being. It didn’t matter if it was at work or in my personal relationships; I felt unworthy unless I was overgiving myself— being the good girl I was raised to be… quiet. Respectful. Useful. Even at my own expense. At 25, I still struggle with certain things, but I no longer doubt my character. I know that I am kind and that I have a heart of gold. I will go to the ends of the earth for people I love. That doesn’t mean I don’...

Last night I went to a show to see one of my favorite current bands. It’s only the second time I’ve gotten to see them perform, and it truly was electric. The first song had everyone obeying the frontman’s commands— being part of a crowd that was present reminded me of how important live music is. I was more blown away last night than the first time I saw them; and if you’ve had the pleasure of seeing The Struts live, you’ll know what I’m talking about. (Seriously, I barely saw anyone have a phone out.) Over the summer, none of my favorite bands or artists have been touring or releasing new music. Without the pull of diving into something new or busy nights full of shows, it led me to examine some old favorites— reframing the works I consider highly essential to the soundtrack of my life, and reflecting on the emotional connection of what music and fandom culture means to me. I was 12 when I found One Direction. They ended shortly after I turned 16. Back then, social media was still a ...

TW: This piece contains personal experiences of sexual trauma, emotional manipulation, and healing. It’s not written for pity or shock— it’s written because truth deserves a voice. Forgiveness is complicated, but healing begins by reclaiming the narrative. - I was 8 years old the first time I was touched against my will. I was in the second grade, sitting in class working on a paper at my table when the boy sitting beside me asked me if I “ really had boobs .”  He reached over and touched my chest as he said it. I was left feeling ashamed and awkward, because I knew it was wrong. But I just turned back to my classwork and didn’t say anything.  A few years later, I was walking into a grocery store with my mom when a grown man passing us looked at me and said, “ nice shirt .” I was 11 years old. I was so innocent I thought he was genuinely talking about my shirt. I was wearing my first padded bra. My mom had to discuss it with me and explain what he really meant.  When I wa...

I had a dream last night.  It was just like any odd dream, til it hit me that it wasn’t . It was a callback to a seed that was planted nearly three years ago. A wake up to personal power.  I was at someone’s housewarming party. But it was the housewarming party for someone that I don’t know. I have met him in passing in waking life, but I’ve never exchanged a word with this person. I only know of them through their art, their creative expression— but not in any form of a personal way. But anyways, back to the dream.  I’m standing outside of this beautiful home in the yard, observing everyone there. I wasn’t noticed much by anyone, and while no one knew me, I knew them. I knew who they all were. But I was just a fly on the wall, an observer to a life I’ve never personally lived— but I was there. I was one of them.  Somehow I switched indoors, and I was sitting on a bed with multiple people. We were all relaxed, watching something together on a tv. I was under the blan...

I didn’t think I’d live this long.  I mean, I never thought I was going to die or anything, but I never thought I’d make it this far. I could never vision a future for myself. Honestly, I still struggle with that.  I’ve always been the type to chase after finding myself. Throw myself in new spaces— different jobs, friendships, hobbies— trying to find who I am. What new angle of me would I learn from this experience?  But truth be told, I haven’t gotten anywhere— just become a jack of all trades who is still just as confused as I was before.  Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. Maybe a little less confused since I have more life experience— but still wondrous about myself and chasing the enigma I am.  I always know when it’s time to go. I’ve always said that I’m like a sponge. I absorb everything, then I wring myself out and throw myself into somewhere new. I’ve repeated patterns, I’ve outgrown some, and I’m sure there’s more I haven’t even uncovered yet that I will la...

I do my best to keep it real with myself. And the truth is: I’m at a crossroads. As 25 nears, I’ve been checking in— am I building the life I want? For years, I dreamed of the stability I never had growing up. Now that I have it… it feels fine. And that’s the problem. It’s just  fine . I don’t say that because I crave the chaos of instability. I say it because I know I deserve more. I want to be lit from within, to feel like lightning has struck my body—or honestly? That I  am  the fucking lightning. I’ve outsourced myself for so long that I wondered:  maybe I feel bored because I was addicted to toxic cycles? But the truth is: you’ll never feel peace in a place that isn’t meant for you. And there’s no reason to keep holding yourself to old, outdated standards once you’ve outgrown them. Sometimes there’s no explaining things—you just  know . So what kind of life do you want? Do you want a life that’s just fine, or do you crave more? Do you want to know yourself ...

When I was in preschool, I got my first crush on a boy named Miles. I went home to my grandma and asked her about soulmates. She explained to me that God chooses someone special for us to share our lives with. At 5, I didn’t really question the rhetoric, but as I grew I really started to question a lot about interpersonal relationships— and especially why my parents and grandparents were no longer together. The generational curse of divorce is strong amongst my lineage, and I don’t mean to bring this up in a frame of judgement by any means— I bring it up in a form of cautious learning. This was one of those things that, though I had no hand in it myself, I’ve greatly suffered the consequences of others before me. When I was a teenager I never thought I’d escape this curse— like I’d never be loved or accepted for who I am, that I’d be left alone forever, the self hatred list goes on and on— but the anger of it was even stronger .  I’ve now learned about generational trauma and h...