The point wasn’t to know exactly how many stars were on the ceiling of my childhood church. We counted the stars to pass time, to keep ourselves occupied during the homily, to grapple w...

I begin to hear my fingers tapping on the dirty, scratched glass of my phone as the pace at which I record my thoughts quickens. I hear the vital air drawn in through my nose that infla...

I want to darken the room and sit, legs crossed, on top of the table. Chris, with the long hair and slow way of speaking, strums his electric guitar, un-amplified, in the lounge below....

Each night I lay in bed clutching my pillow and fighting back panicked tears. I’ve been abandoned. He said no mater what I’d have his support. That promise was naive. I have nobody. No...