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My thin, dark almond eyes, my thick, natural hair, the birthmarks trailing down my back, the stubbornness lodged inside me, the way I ignite at the slightest spark. They say I’m just like him. Is being my father’s daughter Why am I cast as the villain? The problem child pastors prayed over? The girl who left the man she loved for thoughts she invented in her own head? Am I my father’s daughter because, once betrayed, I turn weakness into a weapon? Because I’m impulsive? Becau

Introduction: Leaving Home I was born at Victoria Jubilee Hospital in Kingston, Jamaica. I migrated with my paternal family to the United...

Does anyone else have that one item you always buy whenever you move into a new place? No matter where you go, there’s always that one...

As I walked through the streets of New York, I couldn’t help but notice that everyone had a plus one. Whether it was their family, friends, or partner, they had someone with them. From the outside looking in, it seemed like they were enjoying each other's company. Seeing that after moving to a new state all by myself made me feel a bit homesick. Today, being Sunday, definitely didn't help. I’m used to spending Sundays with my family, gathered around a nice, home-cooked Jamaic

I packed two suitcases and moved to the city on the 4th of July! Celebrating My New Life in New York City To celebrate my one-month...

I thought my first two weeks in NYC would be about meeting new people, rooftop parties, running in Central Park, and just welcoming this new chapter with peace. Instead, I found myself in not one, but two love triangles, and somehow, I was the third party in both. In honor of my one month in the Big Apple, I figured I should share how those first two weeks actually went. But to do that, we have to rewind to March/April 2025. I met the first guy, we’ll call him Waffles, online

I’ll quietly yearn for you.
 I’ll set you free out loud, I’ll bottle the ache in my chest,
 push it deep inside me,
 Praying one day
I can release it,
 and love you loudly again. Until then, I’ll quietly yearn for you.

I gotta be strong now. I have to let you go. I won’t stand in your way. But at the same time, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else, giving her all your attention and love, laughing with her the way you laughed with me. The way she’ll gaze into your beautiful, cat-like eyes, how you’ll help her with little things, just like you did for me. Then the inevitable: giving her your surname, creating mini versions of you. The pain that thought brings is almost too much t

I packed up my belongings and moved to the big city, The Big Apple, as they call it. No clear plans, no real guidance, just hopes and dreams. My family is over a thousand miles away, scattered across the globe. Now that I’m here, I find myself at a crossroads. I’m finally in the city I dreamed of my whole life, But I’m by myself. No friends yet. Love life is on the brink of shambles. I don’t have my family to run to anymore. It’s just me, and the quiet of the apartment. The o

If loving you makes me crazy, so be it. I’ll change my name to Crazy, wear it like it was given at birth. If crazy means I get to love...

June 1st. My mind floods with memories of last June. A June where you existed. A June where you left. A June where I almost lost all of me. A June when I had to let you go to protect myself. A June filled with tears, heartbreak, fatigue, arguments, and loneliness. A June where I still loved you, despite it all. Now, a year later: A June without you. A June that feels lighter. A June without angst.

I won’t love you anymore. This is where we end. I will no longer wish for us to find our way back to each other. I will unlove every bit of love I ever felt for you. I will keep going as if we never spoke. I will erase every memory of you from my mind. I will forget that we ever existed. I won’t love you anymore. This is where we end.

Don’t get me wrong, writing about you isn’t an invitation for you to come back to me. It isn’t an invitation for me to forgive all you’ve done. It’s not an invitation for me to surrender to you. It’s not an invitation for us to try again. It’s not me waiting for us to try again.

I never understood love. I hated how it made people weak. Then I met you.

I broke my fast. Are you proud of me? But it didn’t feel good. When it's not you, nothing feels right.

(I love you and wish you were still my baby)

Since I can't be with you and there is nothing I can do about it, all I do is write.

We've officially been broken up for longer than we were together, I guess that's something that I'm used to.

I do not love lightly. I love with every fiber of my being. I love until it consumes me completely, until I am swallowed whole. Even when...

Unfortunately, I will never understand why love is not enough.