Breathe. I instruct. Turn the paparazzi flashes off.
Breathe. And listen, grab the handles tight.
Feel. Their rough edges inside your palm, painting callouses onto virgin skin.
Don’t. Let your body, mind be dragged behind you, ripping to shreds like stewed chicken.
Breathe. And see that tiny dim light–light years away, forty light years away. Channel all your fight towards that star.
Because blood sheds before new skin.
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.
I am hungry. No breakfast feels sturdy enough, hearty enough to get me through to the mornings these days. I have tried everything, including not
“It’s a hard place to leave but an even harder place to live.” –Papa F aka PG’s philosopher dad. I know for a few days
Today I stood at the edge of the atlantic with my feet under salty water where sky blends into ocean and clouds sail overhead in