Today I am Samantha, and it is my twenty-first birthday. Well, according to this ID and credit card that’s my life. I go down to Denny’s for a free breakfast. The waiter asks to see my ID because he swears up and down that he saw me in here last week. Last week I was… Continue reading Nine Lives.
Maybe all men were created equal, but somewhere down the line people began to use physical identities to define and separate us.
I write for my stitched shut lips and my chain downed vocal chords that are not able to speak. I write because my diction is better than my dialect. I write because my author ego is better at telling my story than I am physically able to. I started writing when I was in… Continue reading Why I Write