The lid on my head is heavy, keeps me under a constant state of bringing to a boil. The comfort of this cycle is a habit I fall into even after years and years of seeking another way. Bring to a boil is easy, bring to a boil is comfortable, bring to a boil is exhausting.
Today, I
Today I slid the lid off my head and remembered I had shoulders and torso and pelvis and legs and feet. That I could be light and this did not make me less.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
It’s Four O’clock here, the day your dream comes to fruition. It’s four o’clock here, I envision you cradling him in your arms, wrapped up
Without boundaries, it exists swirling existing in the air around you, never within light and kind warming you from the outside in. Wrapping its arms
Illustration by Deema Alawa Heist of Self by Parivash Goff What ingratitudethis nebulous futurefor methat I rejectfrom you. I tally all the waysI fight your