Every minute feels like 100 years and 1 second all at once.

In life, most of us will have the unwelcome chance to become familiar with grief. It’s incredibly painful, and it is a feeling I have become well acquainted with over the last few months. In the span of three months, I lost two friends, both my pets and my favorite person in the entire world- my grandma. No sooner had I begun to process my feelings about one death did another deliver a devastating blow. I feel as though I may never recover, which sounds dramatic, but I can’t figure out which death to try and process first, since I…


“They’re in a better place now” is an insult.

Recently, I lost the most important person in the world to me- my grandma. With the whirlwind that happens after death, I’m just now processing my feelings and dealing with grief. I’ve been struggling to come to terms with her absence and to forge a path ahead. I feel like all I’ve ever cared about lies behind me now, and truthfully it seems pointless to walk ahead of that. Most of my life consists of wondering what she’s up to, thinking about how long it will be before I see her again, and if I will. It’s hard to walk…


The thoughts I have while stuck at a dead-end job

Photo by whoislimos on Unsplash

I don’t want to wake up
And do it all again
I’m tired of where I’m at
It’s where I’ve always been

Each position I take in stride
Hoping this is the one
That gets me out of my predicament
But then rejection, bar none

This latest venture
Has started to mess with my mind
I’ve never been in worse shape
I’m feeling emotionally blind

It’s hard to wake up
Filled with dread and regret
I’m tired of saying to myself
“Just another day til the weekend”

I want to do something that matters I want to feel alive I…


The questions I ask myself as I navigate depression.

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

It shouldn’t hurt this much
Just to be alive
I shouldn’t cry every day
I shouldn’t always hurt inside

It doesn’t make sense
Why am I always in pain?
Why do I always hurt
Why am I fighting my own brain?

Why do I have to live
Below a mental state
That is acceptable for life
Why am I so irate?

Why am I so absent
From my life and those near me?
Why am I the supporting character
In my own story?

When will the time come
For me to shine and thrive? …


Strangers, to friends, to best friends, to acquaintances to strangers again.

Photo by James Wei on Unsplash

I miss you.
And try as hard as I do, I still miss you.
I never knew emotions could bruise,
and that they’d hurt so much when they do.

We were strangers before, so what’s strangers again?
Except last time, you weren’t my best friend.
I look at you now, and you’re happy, you swear.
I can see through you though, and you’re struggling for air.

I think that’s the worst part, is you’re barely treading water.
I can’t save you, and the waters getting hotter.
I think of you often, but you don’t think of me. …


There’s no such thing as “just friends”.

Let me be clear: I think the phrase “We’re just friends” is a pretty common, and generally accepted thing to say- in fact, I used to say it all the time. Anytime someone tried to pair me up with one of my friends, (and as many late 20-somethings know, that can be quite often) I had to quickly explain myself, and usually what came out of my mouth is “Thank you so much, but we’re just friends.”

Or, alternatively, if I started to have feelings for someone, I’d let people know by saying “I like them as more than a…


One night changed my entire life.

Growing up, my mom was my best friend. We did everything together. Walks on the beach, singing songs into driftwood that we used as microphones, cooking, cleaning, laughing. She was my everything, and I wanted to be just like her. My favorite color was purple because hers was. I had bangs because she did. I tried to emulate her in every way I could. It was her and I against the world.

And then it became her and the world against me.

When I was about 6, my mom began to struggle with substance abuse. That continued until about two…


This is the story of a (fat) girl.

Here we are, in 2020. The most important and inclusive time to be alive in a fat body. I feel very grateful to be experiencing life as a fat person now, because of the resources, role models, and movements made to cater to my specific lifestyle. I don’t want to diminish how far we’ve come, however, I think more straight-sized people need to hear stories from those of us in fat bodies. Understanding other’s experiences is the gateway to change.

I’ve been fat for most of my life. I grew up in the 90s and early 2000s, and the people…


How do you ask for help when you don’t know what you need?

Photo by Christopher Ott on Unsplash

I’m tired of living
This rose-colored lie
But if my truth slips out
Then they’ll start to pry

I’m struggling, I’m low
I’ve never hurt more
How do I ask for help
When I’ve never been here before?

How do I say
The following words
Without sounding like
I just need to be heard

“I don’t like who I am,
I can’t control how I feel
I bounce from one emotion to another
I have no idea what’s real

I’m euphoric one moment Depressed the next I…


I don’t open up easily

Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash

I want to be friendly
But I have all these scars
I want to form close bonds
But I’m afraid to open my heart

I feel you’ll look at me
And see damaged goods
Or worse, love me and leave me
And bring back the hurt of my childhood

I hold those I love close
And hate when they try to stray
Because to me, it feels
Like I’m about to be betrayed

I don’t open up easily
Afraid of an echo of my past
And when I grow close to someone
It feels like it’s not built to last

Emily Lane

Poet, Exotic Pet Owner, Aviation Enthusiast. I have loved writing for as long as I can remember. I also might be the only person alive who doesn’t love pasta.

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