Memoir
Work-Appropriate (?) Fashion Decisions
There’s nothing like digging through the mystery boxes that live in out-of-the-way nooks to remind a person of forgotten moments. Photos, pieces of carefully folded and saved paper, business cards, name tags, and stray articles of clothing.
By Judey Kalchik 2 years ago in Chapters
Truth or Consequences
(Content warning: mentions of bullying and violence) A new day dawns. As I’m sitting down to breakfast, I turn on my phone and open Facebook. I mindlessly scroll, and it’s not long until I see it. Some article about some celebrity being canceled for some transgression that happened some time ago. It’s the same thing every morning: the one-sided narrative, the half-truths, the cruel assumptions. If the article itself doesn’t get me riled up, the comments section does. It’s an endless wall of people condemning the article’s subject with death threats or other creative punishments that far outweigh the accusation itself. Or else, they condemn anyone who dares support the accused to the same.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland2 years ago in Chapters
Road to Admittance. Content Warning.
It takes a lot for a person to admit they need help and for me, it took me to lose everything I knew to finally admit to myself that I needed help. I purposely pretended to be fine, denied others reasoning to be concerned and refused to seek help because I selfishly didn't want it. I isolated myself because deep down, I knew nobody around me would be able to understand exactly how I felt. The pain in my chest and my suppressed anger, hurt and confusion all joined up together and made my thoughts become somebody I didn't recognize and often feared. My best friends, Trinity and Briana, knew I was getting worse every time the school bell rang and I had to make my way back home. They knew I had finally given up fighting my depression for my sexual abuse and my mother’s neglect; 5 years was too long to keep trying after the 9 years of abuse. And unfortunately there wasn't much they could do when they looked into my eyes and didn't see the real me anymore as I told them “ I’m okay guys. I’m used to it. Go home, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Reluctantly, we would turn away from each other and walk away and I knew they knew the whispered “ Maybe ” came uttering from my mouth causing unshed tears to gather in our eyes. The sinister me was waiting to welcome me in its arms as soon as I walked in my home and trudged up the steps to the sanctuary of my room. My mental health was in shambles but I wasn't going to admit that to anyone, even myself. It wasn’t until I was alone in a hospital room where everything changed for me.
By Yvonaé Dessus2 years ago in Chapters
Returning Home for the First Time. Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge.
It had been almost two years since I had been back home. The drive from the airport in Anchorage to the high school in Seward took less than two hours as it was summer, and the road was free of the usual snow and ice that covered it nine out of twelve months of the year. Every curve in the road was familiar.
By Lena Beana2 years ago in Chapters
The imposition
Dear reader, as what follows is a chapter from the middle of my memoir, permit me to offer some needed detail. Otherwise, you may find yourself wondering what the hell is going on. First, an introduction. I was born a New Yorker who, owing to circumstances beyond my control, was raised from before memory by loving but occasionally error-prone American parents in London.
By Pitt Griffin2 years ago in Chapters
A Degree is a Hard Thing to Come By
I can still remember the first C I ever received in college. It was my first semester, back when I was fresh out of high school and still a “traditional student.” I remember the sudden and intense shame and failure that I felt, and the overwhelming desire to disappear from Nicholls, from civilization, from life.
By Lena Beana2 years ago in Chapters
Heimgang . Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge.
Outside of my front door and across the valley there are three castles each on their own mountain top. I'm living in an old railroad station and the train still runs in front of my house. There is a small road that connects the two closest towns. They are a kilometer in either direction. I am allowed to run all the way to the end of the dirt road where there is a giant buckeye tree. The farmer piles his hay underneath it and when I climb the very top I can almost touch the lowest branches of the tree. There are wheat fields all around my house and I am just tall enough to look over the grass. I love plucking the green and unripe seeds out of the field. They taste sweet. I have a giant backyard and my favorite spot is in the top of the cherry tree that leans just over the fence.
By Adelheid West 2 years ago in Chapters
Wanderbys
Liwu at the Harbor, Fort Bragg, CA 2009 I still remember the day that he came into my world. It was shortly after Hurricane Katrina had forced us to relocate to Baton Rouge, and I was feeling lonelier than I had in a long time. I had been praying and asking for a friend and spending my days in bed, feeling sorry for myself.
By Lena Beana2 years ago in Chapters
No Damsels Here: The Chapter All About Mom
I was eleven years old the day that I successfully changed a tire for the first time. We were on the side of the road next to a bayou in southern Louisiana when our car blew a tire, and my mother seized the opportunity to teach my sister and I yet another survival skill.
By Lena Beana2 years ago in Chapters
