my life
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i never thought i’d be 25. it’s an uncomfortable thing to admit, but it’s probably even more uncomfortable to read. whether you know someone intimately or not, it’s sad to think that any person believed their life had a very early expiration date. for the most part, we want people to live for a long
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right now, i’m sitting in the high top by the window of one of my favorite bars. usually, i save drinking for the weekends: i had a tumultuous relationship with alcohol and drinking in college (more than the normal college student), so once i graduated, i made the conscious decision to reserve drinking for the
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if there was one thing my dad was always going to do, it was get me out of doing my chores by taking me on an adventure. naturally, this bothered my mom to no end: i was a messy kid who left her clothes strewn about her room, rarely made her bed, and left empty
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every time i write anything, my mom always tells me (not ask me), “write about me, juju.” so, here goes: my mom has always been different. she wore skirts to my brother’s football games when other moms wore jeans and rocked her big, oversized pradas in the bleachers of my soccer matches. until third grade,
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today, my best friends and i were chatting about a person we went to school with. for some reason, the conversation made my stomach tie itself into knots — and for a little bit, i wasn’t sure why. they were much “cooler” than me: a quintessential, all-american popular kid who (frankly) did not give me
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to the girl sitting alone at the top corner of the jim miller parking structure at 3:02 am, the side that faces anaheim: a few years from now, it will all be different. college wasn’t the bandaid you thought it would be. if anything, college was equivalent to trying to save a sandcastle built on
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i haven’t been to my local coffee shop in a few weeks. not for any particular reason, life has just gotten really busy. between work, the holidays, and my (for the first time in forever) booked social life, i haven’t been able to make the two-block trip to the cozy hole-in-the-wall in southside that makes
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right now, i’m sitting in my local coffee shop and i’m trying to figure out the relationship between the two people seated diagonally from me. a man and a woman, older than me — i would say around late 30s — seated in the plush chairs by a dormant fireplace. he’s leaning back and relaxed,
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i moved back to the east coast. if you’ve only known me as a face on your screen, this might come as a shock. naturally, on social media, i was the poster child for the word “thriving.” i moved to california—from western pennsylvania—when i was eighteen, hell-bent on starting a new life for myself. i
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i used to hate sunday mornings. for me, sundays tasted like catholic mass lectures and soccer games i would rather spend dancing. sundays were synonymous with chores and endings: daylight savings, sleeping in, and the weekend all coming to a close all within the same day. as i grew older, sundays still remained a stale
julianna marie 