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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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She is no longer on call.
It's;s taking all she has, to not cry. So, she is instead switching from mauve to blue. I know I don't want to be my mom. But I too haven't cried in months. I understand her. How do you mourn the loss of an inheritance no will can encapsulate Does death make you forget all hurt? I once again look at my screen This time to check a list of MScs and PhDs to decide which of them is going to save my life. I am picking at breadcrumbs from French toast I haven't had since I was six. I am smiling at the smell of shiulis I picked with my grandma years ago. I am looking at a very old folder on my laptop with a sense of loss in sepia — an old photograph of my grandma and a baby grinning in her arms. I don't have nails long enough to paint, nor will strong enough to carry on my own. I think I am going to lose my grandma when there is already a longing in my heart What does death do to it? Who knows? Maybe, I'll finally cry. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
November 2023
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