when i was 10, i used to knock on the toilet lid 10 times after each time i went to the bathroom because somehow it made sense to me that this would keep me safe. this would keep the world in balance. in elementary school, a friend told me a secret, one so obscure i … Continue reading Order for an Obsessive Compulsive
A Woman's Hands Some days in this world there are women who find themselves in need of a mother, a sister, a friend. Desiring a safe place to turn to A gentle hand to hold As the liquid courage coursing under skin Falls from their eyes No amount of soap can erase the dirt No … Continue reading A Woman’s Hands
This story was shared by a Project Ava Storyteller. Learn more about the Storyteller Program. Like hundreds of thousands of people, my mother escaped a war-torn Vietnam, risking her life to come to America, where the roads are paved with cheese (or something like that). She was jailed twice during her first two … Continue reading The Night Before I Left Home
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor and I can make an A- feel like a slap in the face. How dare you waste my time with anything less than your best.
Two months after I wrote this poem, I was sexually assaulted. Metanoia was the last thing on my mind. It was the finals week of my Winter Quarter 2013. Nineteen days before my 22nd birthday. I went into survivor mode. I pretended everything was normal. Inside, I wanted to crawl out of myself.