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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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![]() a vision of heirlooms is spread across the grand piano, history aplenty, photos a touch away from disintegration and trinkets made from sterling silver. inside a sickly yellow envelope is a collection
of notes, each written in delicate, slanted cursive. a small, prophetic water droplet blurs the ink, the words “with love” a victim of a tear. despite the poetry written, the recipient was unable to beam—no, the words were met with salt and resentment. it was always so hard to be jovial, so hard to accept love from hopeful interests, it was simpler to evade bliss. this was an inheritance i did not expect; it did not come in a suede box with yellowing trim, nor can it be found stashed in a chest in the corner of the attic. sadness, rather, is a jewel found in gray matter. yet you could tuck an antique pistol behind my ear and whisper threats, and i would be unwilling to share my precious family jewels. every ache is a gift from my ancestors. my tightened throat and overactive mind some of the few remnants they left to my name. the illness that was theirs is now mine; our generational curse with the hardness of a diamond. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
May 2023
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