When Your Will to Live Resembles a Video Game Character

Most days, particularly during the winter months, there’s a point where I hit a sort of metaphorical brick wall in my will power. It’s as though I’ve used up the amount I have for the day and have to find some way to replenish it, be it through food, sleep, or practicing self-care in another form such as something to keep your mind busy like crafting or by taking care of your hygiene via a shower. That’s when it hit me: my energy level – including my will to even continue living, if I’m being fully honest – is finite and must be...

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Lost Girls

I remember seeing her lying at the edge of my parents’ bed, still and white, with a dress that billowed off the turned edge of a comforter. My father says that never happened, that I dreamed it. He says she was never laid there in a dress, on a well-made bed, with mother, father, sister looking down. Either way, she is dead. My sister died as a baby when I was a big girl of five – a real-life angel. Perhaps if she had lived longer – had made it to three candles – maybe then my mother would...

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Living with Trixie

I have never really wanted to fully stop, and I think that’s the problem. There’s too much benefit in the anxiety-building- then-quelling ritual of it. Do I want healthy hair? As a woman, I’m supposed to, right?

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