twenty-something
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Because who doesn't want to hear what a girl in her twenties has to say?
Stories (4)
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Confessions of a Hopeless Love
June 5th We are friends now. We will hang out in Stephen’s living room almost every night this summer. And last summer. We sit on opposite sides of the room and share the occasional laugh and small conversation. I don’t know how to tell you that I try to avoid your gaze. It hurts too much to look in your eyes and know that they will never look back at me the way they used to. I don’t know how to hug you goodbye without giving it away that I never want to let go.
By twenty-something5 months ago in Confessions
The Things I Never Said Out Loud
I am not scared of you. I do not find you intimidating or mean. I don’t think you want me to be scared of you, but I say this for my sake. I remind myself that Golden Gooses and a North Face backpack doesn’t mean that you are better than my GoodWill tennis shoes and hand-me-down JanSport.
By twenty-something4 years ago in Poets
You Ruined The Stars. Top Story - May 2022.
I can't look at the stars anymore. You ruined them for me. You ruined them because we were looking at the stars that night. Shivering. We were the only two left by the fire. Now I know why you stayed out even though you couldn't stop yawning. All of our other friends had long gone to bed but you claimed you weren't tired. As for why I stayed out so late that night, I don't know, but I liked being with you. I liked when we held hands to tease our friends who thought we were together, even after they had left. I liked when I got sleepy and moved closer so I could rest my head on your shoulder and you put your arms around me. I liked hearing our footsteps pound on the asphalt as we ran back towards the fire because the cold was pinching at our skin.
By twenty-something4 years ago in Confessions
Grandpa's House
The road still bends left and right on the way to grandpa’s house. It has always been a curvy neighborhood, and I’ve always noticed that from the back seat of our red van. I always get carsick back there, but my brother and sister argue that I’m the youngest and therefore squished between the suitcases is my assigned seat for the duration of the five hour car ride. My mind flashes back to that one time when we arrived at night. I could barely see anything, and with the moving of the car it felt like we were sailing in the middle of the ocean. Our ship points its nose up as we climb a wave bigger than we have seen that night. From my position at the stern, I peered towards the bow and saw the blackness in front of us was dotted with bright stars, no doubt leading us in our journey through the water. We then dipped down again, and continued on our path. We crawl up that same hill today, but all I see are the grey clouds threatening to open up at any minute, and I feel my stomach drop once more.
By twenty-something4 years ago in Fiction
