Personal Writing
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Letter Writing Exercise to Money
One of the best books I read last year was You Are a Badass at Making Money: Master the Mindset of Wealth by Jen Sincero. It stood out to me because it made me look at my relationship with money. I had never thought about money in terms of having a relationship with it. Money was just this thing that I didn’t like to think about because I associated it with feelings of stress and anxiety. “If you ain’t got any money, it’s because if you treated the people in your life with the same regard you treat money, you’d be dining on a Thanksgiving dinner for one…” Jen Sincero,…
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Drunk with Love
Friday nights for most teenagers represents the beginning of an event called The Weekend. I’m not most teenagers. I choose my companions carefully. Depending on my mood, I either watch a sitcom or read Anne Tyler novels. “Oh, Grace, you’re so boring!” my best friend Farrah says, stretching the “boring” part. “Then why do you hang out with me?” I ask. “Because. You’re funny,” she says. “Oh, so I’m boring but funny at the same time?” “Uh huh.” “You’re not making any sense,” I say. Farrah tries to stifle a giggle. Her hazel eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners. Her cheeks look like rosy dough. Gosh, I love her.…
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Close to You
I know you. I sit at the back of the class, my chin perched on my fists and drink in your every move. I memorize your profile. Etched in my mind is your Roman nose and your wispy eyelashes blinking against the sunlight. I marvel at the even distribution of golden hair on your perfectly proportioned legs and how your shoulder blades and spine stretch your white Vuarnet T-shirt. I envy the lock of wavy hair that cradles your left ear, knowing its smoothness. Are you nervous? You have a habit of tapping your feet and chewing on a blue PaperMate pen. I wish I were that pen. How could…
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My Love
In the morning your eyes pink from sleep gaze at me. Your long curly eyelashes surround a mystery – hazel windows to your soul. There is substance there, in your eyes – a depth I want to explore. You lean over for a kiss I’m hesitant to give. Morning breath, I explain. You don’t care. Your thin lips feel surprisingly full and soft on my mouth. They turn down at the corners – forever locked in sadness. On the night table stands a photograph of you as a boy. “This is the boy who will grow up to be the man I love,” I think. Your eyes so bright and…