The Absence of X.

I spent twelve days doing nothing but coughing, and then the coughing changed. Instead of accompanying my every move (ha, move is possibly not the correct word since I was barely getting out of bed), the coughing became intermittent: a visitor, not a roommate. Its...

PTSD. A letter from me to me.

Deep breath. You will be okay. You are okay right now. A brief explanation. This letter is a reminder from slightly more conscious me who is not in the throes of panic and terror, written for sad, scared me who forgets what is true. It is part of my Book of Me, part...

Presents for future me.

Ah, the continuation to yesterday’s public recognition of the pain that comes with realizing just how little I have paid attention to the needs of me-from-next-week. Until next week shows up and then: oh right, I am her. Yesterday was all about acknowledging...
The Fluent Self