Ashlin B
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I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. These are the words stuffed in my pockets. I’ve almost left them in a voicemail. I’ve tried to write them in a letter. I’ve felt guilty for learning how to let go. Letting go always sounds like defeat, like weakness. It feels like wearing a shirt that says: I wasn’t strong enough to stick it…
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I never really understood love until Sunday when I was sitting in the emergency room. He was screaming, tears running down his tired, red face. Pressed close to me, it was like holding fire, he was so hot and in such pain. I’ve never felt more helpless. I’ve never felt more afraid. It was a few hours before…
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We all want something. There’s something across the room that your eyes keep falling on. It’s probably got a leather jacket on and knows the art of casually leaning against a concrete wall. You’ve never fit into crowds with leather jackets because you think it’s pointless to invest and try wearing something you could never pull off in the first place.…
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I wish someone had told me back then that love is not a competition. I wish someone had come to me and said: “If there ever comes a time when you’re thrown into the ring and told to fight is to prove yourself, to prove your value; if you feel the need to make people think you’re something different…
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Sunday has ruined me for other days. Sunshine, windows down, music sailing through speakers, it’s like his wind whispers: you’ll never be able to settle when you see how I’ll always come back around for you. I’ve tried to fall in love with Mondays, Thursdays, but they can’t hold a shred of my heart once he starts knocking.…




