I was pressing a few yellow tulips under a book that I was sure was never going to be picked up. It was. The odd pieces scattered. They fell into a bit of cat hair, actually. I swept the petals into my hands and remembered how delicate they used to feel. The yellow had softened, the wrinkles deepened, the once-gorgeous flower, an object of my affection, looked akin to dehydrated, jaundiced skin. A bit of pollen sprinkled the parchment paper, a last reminder of their intended

A summer thunderstorm in March. Subtle lightning provides a brief moment of brightness in the 11:00 pm sky. Raindrops land on my forehead as I walk towards my bus stop, leftovers from work in one hand and the drink that I'd been struggling to finish for the past 7 hours in the other. My phone is on 3%. I try to memorize what route I'm taking, where to get on, and where to get off. Do I turn right or left to get to Erin's apartment? I slip my phone in my bag just to pick it up

I've started taking vitamins. Four different kinds. Two I chew and two I wish I could, given their size. I unfortunately look forward to this ritual every day. Each oblong piece is a reminder that I am winning at taking care of myself. I've been eating a lot of chia seeds and sweet potatoes and am almost convinced that I like the skin because any intelligent person would know that is the part that's best for you (I did not). I am 23 and 3 months old and totally not having a c

I hate being alone when I'm sick, and yet that's always how I seem to find myself. I had a fever two weeks ago in a dorm room somewhere in Northern Vietnam. My persistent runny nose evolved into a nosebleed, and as I was cursed with the top bunk, my double-socked feet would slip on the iron ladder on the way down. Two sad tissues remained stuffed up both nostrils for an inconvenient amount of time. The day before, I prematurely booked a six-hour hiking tour in the hopes that