When I was 18, I painted words on my bedroom walls with black paint and sharpie markers. It was how I came back to myself, how I found a semblance of security during that strange period of life when you’re hovering between girl and woman. It was the summer after I graduated from…
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4
How we merge the many versions of ourselves
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We go back to move forward
9
3
Lessons from the lake this summer
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Plus an essay and song for your week
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2
What it means to carry heavy feelings for longer than a moment
11
6
Are there not more important things?
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A podcast about tomatoes, a book about memory, and a very sad playlist
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