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Self

Glass as skin, wings as paper

I’ve always felt I belonged in the cold.  I’ve chased the sensation of that first clean intake of cold air for as …

False Dicotomies

All he can do is stare at the small, chubby-fingered hand in the gray-brown fur.  Its coarseness feels otherworldly, but the sensation …

Stories like armor

I wear my story like an armor.  I use it so that you can never hurt me with what I already reveal …

Exchanges

There is this idea I have of myself and then there is the reality.  As I’ve gotten older, the gap between the …

The things you are afraid to do

Several years ago I had a climbing accident.  I was scaling a rather simple cliff in Colorado, my partner failed to secure …

In Dogged Pursuit of Perfection

I’ve spent the last while grieving.  My best friend dead, I’ve spent it without my usual compass, without the correcting hand that …

places of forgetting

I am not defined by you.  I am defined by my actions.  My actions shape my world.  Your perception is yours.  My …