Most recently published stories in Humans.
When the World Collapsed
We met in Florida. I was living there with my mother, working and just enjoying the Sunshine State. He had moved there from New York State for a job. We spent every moment together when we could go. Riding the motorcycle, sitting at the beach talking, or just walking around taking in the sights. We moved to his hometown which was a huge change for me. I got pregnant with our first daughter and we married right before she was born. We went through a lot of bad times together and some were very hard but we always stuck together. Fast forward a little over ten years. We had two more daughters, he had a very good job, and I was a stay-at-home mom who didn't have to worry about a thing. Our girls at the time were 7, 4, and 2. His job required him to travel and so during the week he wasn't home, which the girls and I were accustomed to.
Somewhat of a Love Letter
Other than being a male feminist, I also like to think of myself as a philanthropist. (Yeah, I know! Sounds like I’m totally just piling it on now.)
Let Me In
What do you do with a heart you can’t feel? Who do you give it to? You give it to the girl you want to try for, you give it to the girl who makes you want to feel. My heart is so hardened, my heart is so cold to the feelings that create vulnerability. I chose not to feel, not to care, not to worry about anyone other than myself until I met her. I met her when I was at my lowest, when the only thing keeping me alive was the lack of motivation to kill myself. I never thought I would get out of it. I never thought I’d find someone to make me forget how it felt to be cold, forget how it felt to be lonely, to not care, to not worry. She ripped herself open and folded me up inside of her, I toured through her bloodstream, stopping at every point in her body where she had been wrongfully touched. Where her parents had hit her too hard, pulled her too hard. Where they left bruises and welts that stung her for days. Where boys had laid their hands where they did not belong. Where the kisses were empty and the touch was numbing. Where girls had thrown words that hurt more than bricks. Where the sticks and stones had been thrown. When I got to her heart and I saw that the red had turned to purple in some spots, how deep in its pit the colors were changing, from red, to blue, to purple, to black. All over were bruises of different sizes that weren’t healing fast enough. I saw that her heartbeat had many pauses. I saw that her lungs struggled to rise and fall and then I knew; I wasn’t the only one who had been ostracized and bullied. I wasn’t the only one who knew what it meant to be broken, to continuously try to repair the leaks and the tears that other people have so easily let happen. I saw that she was broken and scarred. I saw that this girl, who smiled at everything, who easily found the beauty in all things, was hiding so much from the people she wouldn’t let in. I climbed up from her heart and danced around her collarbones until I made my way inside of her brain. I saw the movies of every time she had been hurt, of every time she had been lied to, been beaten, broken, and used. I saw the lists of reasons she wanted to die, of the many things she disliked about herself. I saw the images of her past. Amidst the chaos, I found her dark room, hidden away behind the bustle of negatives. I opened the door and wandered in. It was so cold, and it was so dark and quiet. I flipped a switch and the red glow from an overhead light illuminated just enough for me to see wires from one end of the ceiling to the other, with a myriad of positive pictures. I was captivated, I spent most of my time inside this room. Finding my favorites, finding the ones that made me smile even though I wasn’t there when the memories were created. I decided to stow a few images in my pockets and left the room. When I stepped back into the turbulent atmosphere of her negatives, I noticed them stop. All of the movies paused and the images stopped swinging and twirling around simultaneously. I felt the pressure on me, the pressure to put back the positives and let the negatives have full control. I ran past them trying to find an exit. I climbed down around her ocean blue eyes and slid down the slope of her button nose and landed on the tip of her tongue. I could feel the humidity from all of her embarrassing stories, the reddish pink colors on the walls of her mouth resembled her rose blushed cheeks. I knocked on her teeth, signaling her that I was ready to come out. She pulled me out, the presence of her unease was thick in the air. I presented to her the pictures I stole from the room she had desperately tried to keep hidden. I offered them to her, she was too kind, too smart, too beautiful to run from the things that could make her happy. I showed her how they made me smile, how she made me smile. I showed her that I accepted her bruises and her scars. That I accepted the parts of her that people have tried so hard to deny. I pulled her in for a hug and allowed her to fall into my bloodstream next.
Rants of a Spouse Coping With a Pill Addict
I am the wife of a man that is addicted to pain meds and Xanax. I know there are many people out there that will relate to my story (rant). Often the focus is on the addict and what needs to be done to help them. Am I right? What about us? The people that have to or shall I say choose to deal with the lies, financial struggle, mood swings, etc.? They have drugs to cope with whatever it is that they are dealing with. We have nothing and sometimes no one to help.
Lost and Found
It all started when I used to like you. To me, you were everything in my eyes and I imagined you being the right one for me. I also have dreams of you and I walking in the hallway together holding hands, carrying my books to class for me, and giving me a kiss everyday. Now, isn't that so sweet and so cute? In my mind, I think so and I just cannot keep your name out of my mouth. Day and night, I always think about you all the time.
I Love You
You meet a person, you date, you make things official and bam, one of you pops the three glorious words: 'I. LOVE. YOU' DAYUM!
He's a drug I don't want to be addicted to anymore but he's too addicted to let go of. His kisses are like poison that suffocates my breath. But I love it... And I love him... I think.
The Bad Relationships That We Don't Post on Social Media
Part of the reason that abusive relationships and domestic violence incidents are hardly reported and rarely talked about is because, while it is happening, the victim is either too scared of the abuser to bring attention to it, or simply embarrassed of how badly they have been dehumanized by their abuser. After it happens, it’s not that the victim is 100 percent okay and moves on with their life as if nothing happened, it’s that it’s hard to revisit moments where you’ve been so close to death, moments you’ve spent alone bawling your eyes out feeling completely helpless. Even after the fact, it’s still extremely difficult to come out and say “this person abused me multiple times because I was manipulated and kept allowing it to happen,” and it’s also hard to reach out to someone for help and be rejected. I’m going to dive into the period of my life that I spent being mentally, emotionally, and physically abused by someone who was able to manipulate and somehow hypnotize me within the first few weeks of knowing me—and I won’t leave anything out. Here is the full, shitty truth of my two-year relationship with a cold-hearted felon.
The Hot Guy Syndrome
Anyone who is interested in men wishes that they would have the chance to date the hot guy. And most of them will get that chance if they really want to until they find out that a terrible beast is hiding inside. Make sure you read this article until the end if you want to know how to turn him into Prince Charming because today, we are talking about the Hot Guy Syndrome or seven reasons why you don't want to date him.
Lacuna (n) - An unfilled space, Gap Loneliness is a strange emotion. Has a friend of yours ever told you they feel lonely? Have you ever told a friend you feel lonely? What was the response that was received to that statement? I bet that it didn’t quite fit as a response, right? As if they didn’t understand what you meant by lonely, but when you try to explain it, you can’t, there doesn’t seem to be any word which quite fits what you intended to say and it’s frustrating.
The 10 Stages of Heartbreak
You’ve come here because the deed has been done. And it’s horrible, and it’s the worst but everyone at some point in life experiences it. Love comes under the same neurological functioning that processes drugs, it is a literal addiction. So let’s learn how to wean off.
I'm Going to Get on Your Every Last Nerve Until You Stop Judging Me
I'm going to get on your every last nerve until you stop judging me and you better believe it. We all go through our day with a million little judgements. The person at the checkout was rude, that girl you work with is a stuck up bitch, the guy sitting next to you on the train smells. The list could go on, but you can save it for the internal monologue. It's not that I'm interested. Mild discrepancy is acceptable, we are only human after all. To judge an entire group of people based on a singular aspect of their lives however, generally falls into one of the "isms." You know those widely unacceptable and quite disgusting notions that cause human beings to generalise and discriminate, you know things like racism or sexism.