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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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I went to the grocery store today, bought
bean sprouts & melons & raisins sealed into matchboxes. I was promised they’d never expire, that they’d last forever. Tonight I dump these raisins across my desk. They’re drowning in the starlight & will rot all the same, still I wait for them to turn into grapes. 2 AM. The line between today & tomorrow wrinkles as my limbs toss & turn & twist the sheets, the air growing too thick yet too thin to breathe. I can’t think straight, the night toying with my thoughts. I rub my eyes force myself to stay awake for reasons I no longer remember, memories hidden among the cobwebs and dust bunnies beneath my bed. I went out on the porch to watch the sunset mere hours, a lifetime ago. Heaven closed its eyes swiftly, tears falling in gilded rivulets. The sky closed its palms, didn’t flinch as the sun slipped between its fingers, a careless masterpiece. In the end I couldn’t say if it bled in pale blues or reds. The moon is collapsing in on itself over and over again. I watch through hazy starlight as it tumbles backwards into the horizon. Shadows tease the edges of my fluttering eyes while sunlight spills across the room, and at last, I surrender. Suspended in this strange reality, I too fall backwards in silence, into the throes of sleep, the air exhaling and settling all around me. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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