My name is Lexie and I'm a professional writer and digital marketer from the great Rocky Mountains. Currently daydreaming of moody autumn days, David Bowie's resurrection, and moving to an abandoned castle in Scotland.
My Year with Fear
I'm one week away from 28 and a few days ago, I started thinking about what sort of "gift" I could give myself this year. I hadn't gifted myself anything before in honor of a birthday, but after this past year, I thought maybe it was time to start a new tradition to celebrate.
9 Horror Films to Get You in the (Spooky) Mood
I still have a lot to learn about myself. What I like, what I dislike, my personal style, my writing style — life is, after all, an ever-evolving cycle of discovery. To be honest, I would struggle to tell you exactly who I (Lexie) am, but as of today (August 3, 2021), I'm sure it would read something like this:
This is Fourteen
Hey cutie pie, Yeah, I can feel you rolling your eyes—that's okay, I'm used to it by now. Don't worry, even at the ripe old age of 27, you'll still be a champion of the "eye roll." You'll also be the champion of several other wonderful things too, just so you know.
Ollie & Mama
Besides my mother, my favorite thing in the whole entire world was storytime. I didn’t care if it was at school, the locker rooms at the Y, overheard on the city bus—a story was a story, and I craved that action-packed word-porridge of plot and characters and decisions and twist and turns—oh my.
This could save your life
I'm 27 as I write this, 19 when it happened. I composed this piece in an effort to help other women understand potential human trafficking tactics and/or potential kidnapping scenarios. I share this because while it happened nearly 10 years ago, it wasn't until this year (2021) that I realized the tremendous danger I could have found myself in had things ended differently.
Baby on Fire
I wasn't supposed to be in his office. Not now—not ever. That was the command. His command. First, it started with the office, now the basement. Soon it'd be the dining room, the guest bedroom—our bedroom, even. Nothing could shock me too much anymore, but let's just stay I was starting to grow impatient.
“CG.” Her initials are tattooed on the left side of my back and sometimes, inexplicably, the tattoo raises like a welt and I can trace her script with my pointer finger. We got these tattoos two months before we graduated from college—a journey we shared together right from the start. You see, we were randomly paired up as roommates in 2011, our freshman year. Throughout those four years, we were known across campus for our immovable friendship. We were attached at the hip—we sobbed together when things got hard, we drunkenly danced at house parties we weren’t invited to, and we played hilarious pranks on each other that drove the rest of our dorm absolutely crazy. She was my person and the existence of one another had us believing in soulmates.