RAINCOAT 

This memory is a generic one. In my brain’s retelling of senior year, this happened many, many times, and it was exactly the same every time. That obviously can’t be the case, but still: the simple sequence of events, due to its overall regularity, has become an unexpectedly important memory. It goes like this: you text me or vice versa. We meet by the stairs behind Clark. We run down the stairs to your car secretly sort of hoping we don’t run in to anyone. You turn the key;

My mom says I stopped being happy the day my sister was born. I was three years old, and can neither confirm nor deny this because all I remember about her birth was getting to make fashionable scrunchies in the hospital waiting room with my cousin. Sure enough, as we got older, we started to Pangaea that shit (aka drift apart). I was into school and books and writing, while she was into being a normal person. We just didn’t get each other. Ironically, it took my going away t

If you've spent long enough in the forest it's easy to forget there's anything else. The light through the cracks in leaves is not the warm light of the outside world. If you've spent long enough in the forest, it's easy to forget there's any such thing as natural light (Perhaps the light through the cracks of trees is your vision failing you, spots of emptiness where in reality there is nothing but trees and the darkness); and when you start to doubt the light outside, this

The story of how two women met, told by two women who don't really remember the story. #video #friendship