A Journal Entry — I am tired. Bone-weary. I can feel it deep in my tissues and it aches when I move. I am anxious often. Anxiety rules my life. Fear is what I know, frustration drives me, and fatigue weighs me down. It’s my fault. I made choices that put me here. I…

Prose by Ada J. Raven — My ceiling is blank as it’s ever been; white, textured, unmoving, cold… It doesn’t bring joy. Only consistency. Nothing moves or disturbs the blankness. And then I hear a noise from outside; someone shouting or a bird chirping. My skin itches in agitation and I squeeze my eyes shut… It’s…

Prose by Ada J. Raven — I don’t know who to trust anymore. People who once knew everything now seem blind and dumb to me. They’re still watching shadows dancing on the walls. I don’t know everything; I’m only half educated. But my shackles were broken and I glanced outside… Now I can’t unsee it. I…

A tale of conscious uncoupling. — This may be one of the most painful posts I’ve had to write. But it’s important to get it out. My relationship of 6.5 years ended on July 7th, 2021. We were engaged for over half of that time, and this year we tried to move to the next level. …

Making peace with the fact that people who don’t know you hate you for being you. — Plato says once you step out of the cave, you can’t step back in. Black and brown children are forced to step out of the cave long before they reach adulthood. Ignorance is not a privilege we are afforded. White children, however, have a choice. It is only by moral…

by Ada J. Raven — I swear I’d never worry about earning a cent again if it weren’t for the small inconvenience of living. I would sit here all day, with salty wind stroking my face and ruffling my hair. The plaster on my forearm won’t stay put; I fiddle with it regularly. Gulls easily flap on the breeze, landing on the water to bob like corks. I wish sometimes that I could join them. I feel guilty that I have these thoughts. Within the same vessel that yearns for a family and children and a career and a home, there exists a desire to forgo all of that.

Prose by Ada J. Raven — TW: graphic self-harm imagery Let’s not talk about my highs and lows. Not because they shouldn’t be spoken of, but because the way you talk of them is painful to me. I am doing the best I can with what I have right now, and your words cut deeper than…

Is it my habit to underestimate myself before other people can? — Unedited essay by Ada J. Raven I tune in and out of the audiobook playing through my headphones. My bank account, still based in the U.S., is dwindling. It’s under 4 digits for the first time in months, and I can’t work yet to build it back up. The first…

Prose by Ada J. Raven — TW: Images of death and dying The things I don’t say will probably kill me one day… But that’s why I write — to put that off as long as possible. From the smallest of annoyances to the biggest of grievances, thoughts of things I should have said echo in…