because you don’t need one.

Maybe the goals we don’t set are the most important, after all.

On Sunday, I went to church for the first time in three months. It was awful.

SONGS OF CHANGE #3

“What was that?” I wondered, looking over my shoulder in the pitch-black room. “It’s part of it, you’ll see,” my mother whispered. I gripped my knees tightly, as if they might float away. I wasn’t go anywhere, I had decided. Not until the lights came around again…

SONGS OF CHANGE #2

I lived three months as an alien. No, I’m not talking about when I went to Washington. No, I’m not talking about Caleb and the cancer. Three months. Gone. Whisked away by the waking of my eyes. Three months. Followed by a week of questioning my reality. False memories made of picnics, conversations, conflicts with friends and spontaneous outings to celebrate our recent accolades. All within 7 hours of sleep. All a dream that felt more like real life than my waking reality. All, alien.

SONGS OF CHANGE #1

“1 new unread message” falls from the top of my phone screen. I click, fast . It reads: “…Would you be interested?” I hesitate, typing, deleting, and typing again. “Yes,” I type quickly and press send before I have time to second guess my answer, my abilities.

How “liking” a photo can ruin your life.

If your teenager is dating, read this.

The final entry of my “Edmonds Entries” series. A poem for the girl I’ve tried to forget.

Ultimately, if I disappear, no one will have to carry the weight of me, the weight of who I am.

Today I had ice cream for the first time in eight months…Why did I feel like I had been returned an essay with a giant “FAILED” stamped across the front page?

I hope to see her still, on my graduation day, sitting behind the desk long, crying at my speech. And maybe, in the turning of the world…

My hand shot from my coat and moved the door to open. I stood in front a wall of decision noodle soup.

I was allowed one suitcase, well, two, but I figured they’d like me more had I reduced myself to one.

As I scan over the town, I find I’ve landed in a place far-off. Strange in every sense of the word.

While in treatment, I had little access to technology. This would usually cause me little stress, but seeing as my primary coping strategy was what got me there in the first place, and my second was music (which was nowhere to be found without technology or the elusive musical instrument), I tried out drawing again.

The first time I felt uncomfortable in my body was in a gymnastics class at 5 years old…

My New Year’s resolution is to start recovering from my eating disorder.