The close conversation had reached that point where we had run out of superficial, cheery things to say.  I wrung my hands as a thought forced itself into speech: I had been afraid that saying it aloud would make a tentative idea more real than it actually was, but I couldn’t help it, it had been haunting me for too long:

“Um, I don’t know,” I began slowly.  “I think, more than anything, I want to be in a relationship.  I know that’s a lame thing to say…I believe in feminism and independence and all that, but…it’s true.”

I lowered my head and blushed as my friend reassured me, but I couldn’t help but taste the aftertaste of a remark that was not articulated finely enough.  Because, in truth, I enjoy being single.  I like going to concerts and kissing strangers without worrying about someone back home.  I like quiet moments by myself.  And I see people constantly holding hands, constantly spending the night in each others’ dorms and I think: I don’t want that.  I don’t want all of that, at least not all the time.  

But I definitely want something.   Continue reading

Morning After

There was no obliviating fade to black, and then a reemergence of consciousness and light.  I had been laying in the diluted dark for hours, listening to him breathe deeply next to me, tiptoeing to the bathroom, until the gradient of day and night pulled itself over the horizon, shifted across his bare apartment, and the birds began to chirp. Continue reading

Favorite Love Song Lyrics

Some ironic and silly, others heart-crushingly emotional.

❤ Ever since we met // I only shoot up with your perfume // it’s the only thing // that makes me I feel as good as you do. — Panic! at the Disco

❤ I don’t care what’s in your hair, I just wanna know what’s on your mind.  I used to say I wanna die before I’m old but because of you I might think twice. — Twenty One Pilots

❤ Somebody told the stars you’re not coming out tonight // so they found a place to hide —  Arctic Monkeys Continue reading

Monthly Me (Jan ’17)

Safe to say I’ve had an emotionally distraught start to the semester, for a variety of reasons.  But I healed myself, surrounded myself with the right people, and at the end of this dark January, I feel more like the bouyant, happy girl I was last semester — just a little more grown up now.

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Please Knock

I’m not holding the door open for him (letting the cold air pour in, numbing my ankles), but I’m not slamming it and bolting the lock either.

Right now I think the door is ajar, leaving me an indulgent and toxic crevice for me to peek out of, for those moments when I pretend I don’t know better.  Slowly but surely, I’m drawing it shut, and one day I know I will finally close it in peace.

But I know that I will not lock it — oh, not for a long time.  It means that a brief visit, a careless turn of the knob, will swing it wide again.  That frightens me.  I don’t want to let him in again.  I only want him back if he comes to the threshold with flowers, wipes his feet on the mat — plans to stay.

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Trust Fall

So there’s you and me and a precipice, and I saw jagged rocks  under the cliffside, when I was near you.

But inherently, I trust you, and after pulling back, I looked at you from afar and decided to make a running leap.

I’m making a desperate dash for you, in the hopes that it’s not so desperate after all. Continue reading


  • You don’t know him that well.  He doesn’t know you that well.
  • He’s great, but he’s not perfect.  He’s not everything.
  • You don’t have to unfold a whole story in one text.  Chop it up and stretch it out.  Let him respond to each bit.  Keep it light.
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  • At no point do you have to say :  “I like you.”  This is college.  Intimacy and friendship and romance (can) mingle together.  You don’t have to declare anything at each boundary.
  • Chill tf out.
  • It would be nice to date him.  But it’s not the end of the world if you don’t.  You have options.  (Fun options).

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Befriending Boys

I think the most surprising development in college so far is how well I’ve been getting along with boys platonically.  I might even go as far to say that being finally able to befriend guys has been the best development of my college life so far.

If you haven’t caught wind of this from my confused ramblings and angsty poetry, plainly, I’ve had very complicated feelings for guys.  During high school psych, we briefly touched on a Freudian theory* about how elementary-age boys and girls are repulsed by each other.  You know, that “cooties” stage.  I think that in many ways, I’ve failed to grow out of that phase.  Girls are complimentary, sensitive, nice — so easy to talk and relate to.  Most boys, meanwhile, are untidy, arrogant, vulgar, emotionally-constipated, and vapid.  For a long time, I saw very little appeal in boys.

There was one exception of course: I’m hopelessly, ridiculously attracted to them.  Continue reading


For college pre-orientation, I went to a three-day camping trip and a silent disco for the first time.  The experiences are more similar than you’d think.

I’ve attended two years of summer sleep-away “nerd” camp previously.  Though I never hiked during those trips, I’ve noticed that, basically, summer camp is a hot cooker for intensified emotions.  After an awkward start, platonic and even romantic feelings develop faster than one thinks possible.  I used to miss my three-week-long friends like I was ill; unattainable camp crushes yielded some of the strongest emotions of my young life.  Similarly, during my pre-orientation camping program — called PennQuest — before college, my hiking mates felt incredibly attached to each other.  Maybe it was the bonding over itchy bug bites and steep hills — or maybe it was the sight of everyone in their sweaty, makeup-less, and simplest forms.

So camps are microcosms of accelerated intimacy.  But are they special exceptions to emotionally-cautious life, or a mass-hallucination of young minds eager to feel less alone than they are?   Continue reading