Kristen Balyeat
Bio
Words fly to me on the wind, bump into me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night– I’m humbly one of the many vessels they use to come to life.
Stories (126/0)
27,890 ft. Content Warning.
Breath has always been mine without thought, but each frigid inhale is all-consuming here. I check my oxygen tank—there is enough to summit. I breathe to full capacity, yet I am not satiated. Every minute feels like a slow suffocation, a drowning on dry land. The more thought I give to the act of breathing, the more lightheaded I become. My heart pounds a deafening survival anthem, and suddenly, I have a sickening feeling that I will die here. Panic whips over me like the thrashing snow beating against my goggles.
By Kristen Balyeat5 months ago in Fiction
vocal bliss
As the new year approaches, there is always a significant push to pick ourselves apart, see where we can make personal improvements, set goals, and decide how to completely change our lives to become even better versions of ourselves. Although I feel the excitement around the impulse of making changes, improving, and setting goals, I’m not one to set my lofty resolutions during the frigid winter months. I’m in hibernation mode, and if it doesn't include a sweater, slippers, and tea, I’m probably not going.
By Kristen Balyeat6 months ago in Writers
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