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It was that burning sensation,
the one that grabs hold
at the base of your throat,
and you cough as if that will help.

“We” being my generation—specifically those of us currently in college. We have been getting constantly ragged on for being lazy and disorganized, and uncaring.

When I was in my junior year of high school, I wrote a piece for my end-of-the-year project in AP Language and Composition titled “Recipe.”

Near Grounds, a kind stranger offered flowers to anyone who wanted them. 

I didn’t always think I had to eat. Like many college students, I had a very bad habit of not prioritizing my body and, if anything at all, eating was a reward.

This cycle's theme is food/cooking.

When I was a kid, Saturday mornings meant a breakfast of fried rice, a runny egg, and SPAM—a staple in our pantry growing up.

I scheduled my life around these substances while I was home in Houston; the amount of Netflix and fanfiction I consumed comprised a heaping portion of my one meal a day.

i’m tired of love. of being told that love is going to fix the irrevocable loneliness of existence. because we’re not in love, are we?

I listen to her voice break on the other side of the line, describing all the things he did to make her feel Crazy.

Did you know that ladybugs like honey?

It’s not alright and it hasn’t been alright, not since you yelled at me over flowers, but the flowers weren’t really the issue.