Celia closed her eyes, anticipating a magnetic moment, a magnificent chemical reaction. The way Lucy described kissing men. It’s not that Celia hadn’t kissed men before -she had kissed quite a few. But she never felt fireworks go off in her gut the way Lucy promised she would feel, so Celia always hoped that the next boy she kissed would be the one. The next boy she kissed would be the one who made her feel like Lucy felt; the kaleidoscopic energy in Lucy’s soft stomach, the involuntary arch of Lucy’s back when she craved more intimacy, and the ticklish trace of Lucy’s fingers along the back of her lover.
i arrive home. the lock to my condo jams and i spend a few seconds shimmying my key […]
i’ve always thought that the month of november receives an unfair amount of criticism.
I used to cry a lot when I was younger, whether it was to vent sadness, anger, or […]
imagine, if you will, a town. in this town, high on a hill, is a structure so menacing that children write folk tales about it. it has become a monster of its own. it eats up the town crazies and never lets them out.
Please note. I wrote this article before Lydia Night announced she and Dylan Minnette had split romantically, and this piece was in no way influenced by said events– I have not added to it, and these remain my original thoughts, untainted by this news. It is crucial to respect the privacy of both Dylan Minnette and Lydia Night during this time.
The cedar-coloured bed belongs against the northern wall. The bed is low, so a strip of white paint is visible between the bamboo mattress and the double windows. Upon examination, one may notice tiny pinpricks dotting the wall, proof of nails once wedged there.
Author’s Note: this is possibly the most vulnerable thing I have ever written on the internet, and I think that’s saying a lot—especially for me. My near-death experiences, relationship drama, and connection with my culture have all been aired for the public to see. But this, this feels scarier. This feels different.
I’ve never been straight, at least in the eyes of others. It feels like my sexuality has never been free. I am just another person unable to break out of the assumptions of sexuality. But I know that my sexuality has changed and I can recognize that for myself. Even if no one else can validate it.
By: A Hobbyist I asked 20 people to describe me as thoroughly as possible, and the responses resounded […]
Oh, how I love the soundthat waves make in winter.A deep breath—a quiet roar,frozen in the depths of […]
Amongst the vast sea,we provide contrastin the most undesirable manner. We are called people of colour.We are sweet-toothed […]
By: Monica Lin I am a romantic.A hopeless, stupid, romantic.Consuming media like it ismy second heartbeat;A piggyback heart.An […]
By: Monica Lin If you stare into my eyes, you can almost notice a faint pink tint hiding […]
The Gravers arrived every November. When the vibrant mosaics of October turned into stale and scattered browns; when […]
The first book that made me cry was We’ll Fly Away by Bryan Bliss. Unimaginably depressing, it recounts […]
He reeked of sadness. It was an aura that pervaded him—coiling and spiraling around him in thick, dense […]
Funny, the way we so easily think we’re in love. You’re always scared to admit hard truths to […]