I was in first grade when two of my friends started talking about this girl they didn’t like. They called her “Apple.” It was their not-so subtle way of telling me they were not a fan of certain behaviors. They hated she was bossy. They thought she was mayabang. Every little thing they said about
I’m always worried I’ll forget things and nobody will be there to remind me.
Why the loneliest days come after you bury the dead. When death comes, the support is almost immediate, overwhelming even. Messages of condolences—what does that even mean, really?—start pouring in as soon as they hear about the unfortunate news. People come in droves right before you’re left to deal with your grief by yourself at
On the last night of my Daddy’s wake, my brothers and I shared a few words with family and friends, who shared in our grief, celebrated our father’s life, and told us of the wonderful man he was to them when he was still alive.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been the kind of person who honors traditions. I stick to the same plan every year, never really changing what I’ve grown accustomed to doing growing up.
As I’m nearing the end of my mid-30s (I will officially be in my late-ish 30s next month), I’m finding that there are still many, many things I could care less about. I recently shared an old The Everygirl article about things that get better after 30 and had a couple of people reply about
words from mae’s “Our Love is a Painted Picture” A year ago, today, I left my 12-year job in digital publishing, where I was working for a website I considered my life’s work. I lived and breathed our website for the better part of that decade. That meant the brand was basically my lifeblood. When
When I was in high school, I had a website where I chronicled my life. From the most mundane details of what I ate for breakfast to what song was playing as I typed up my entry, I felt compelled to share it with the world. I don’t think it even really mattered if anyone