Stephanie Jarrell

Joined June 2021

28 stories

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Stories (28)

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Innocence, Interrupted
Kids shouldn’t have to grow up faster just because the world is unraveling louder. They shouldn’t have to see pain so often that it starts to feel normal.
By Stephanie Jarrell3 days ago in Poets
The Kind of Darkness You Don’t See
There’s a kind of darkness that doesn’t look like darkness from the outside. It looks like going to work. It looks like laughing at the right moments.
By Stephanie Jarrell6 months ago in Poets
Flaw Into Fire
Their lips pressed gratitude into every inch of me. Breathing thank you, over and over again Into every scar and curve. Into every space I once resented.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
I Hope They Notice
I hope they don’t stop at your smile—because while it’s beautiful, it’s only a fraction of what makes you glow. I hope they don’t just hear your laugh but listen closely enough to know the difference between the one that’s carefree and the one you use when you’re trying to convince yourself you’re okay.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
Maybe Karma Is You
You believed in the quiet symmetry of karma—that what you gave would eventually find its way back to you. So, you gave the best of yourself.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
The Silent Beauty of Falling Apart and Piecing It All Back Again.
You wake up one day, and the world feels dimmer—colors aren’t as vibrant, the air feels heavy, and the things you used to love now feel hollow.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
Love Can Stay Steady, Even When I'm Not
I push them away, again and again. It’s not deliberate, not at first, but it’s there—in the way I retreat into myself when things start to feel too close, too real.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
Pain Hides in Plain Sight
I saw a woman sitting in her car—parked, engine off, keys limp in her hand like she’d forgotten why she held them in the first place. She was a million miles away from herself, staring through the windshield as if the world outside didn’t exist or maybe existed too much. I couldn’t tell if her mind was racing or if she was numb, and maybe that’s the thing about pain: it swings between the two until you can’t tell the difference. When it’s sharp, it consumes you, cuts through everything. But after a while, it dulls. It doesn’t hurt less; it just burrows deeper, and you go numb to survive it.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
The Gift of Feeling Deeply
There’s a strange, aching beauty in the way life slows down when you’ve been cracked open. When the chaos recedes, even for a moment, and you’re left with just yourself—
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
Choosing Compassion When Life Gives You Every Reason Not To
To be kind in a world that hasn’t been kind to you is an act of rebellion. But this rebellion isn’t loud or destructive.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
What I Learned After You Left
It took me a long time to stop grieving a goodbye you called a gift. For a while, I made your silence into scripture. I turned your absence into a reflection of my worth.
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets
A Letter to The One Who Thought They Were Saving Me By Leaving
It was never your decision to decide what was or wasn’t best for me. But you did it anyway— wrapped your absence in the language of sacrifice
By Stephanie Jarrell8 months ago in Poets