Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer

@kaylee-scott

Full time nerd, part time writer, seeking to break down doors but while apologizing profusely & unnecessarily for doing so. Previously published in Cosmopolitan & The Huffington Post.

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Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· 28d

I’ve been trying to make healthy choices. Thankfully, salads are currently trying to give people explosive diarrhea. So eating my feelings was the responsible choice 😁 Blueberry Cobbler Croissant and a Dragon Fruit and Elderberry Refresher from Dark Horse Coffee and Kitchen. #selfcare #lunch #food

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· 29d

I’ve definitely shared this one before but it’s the only “phase” I have for today’s #wipsnips word #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

The first time Scott showed up to brunch, with his dark skin, big muscles (that made me wonder what it would be like if he carried me up a flight of stairs, put me over his knee and spanked me), and the whitest, most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen in my life (I would later learn they were veneers), we’d both had way too much to drink. The restaurant had mimosa flights, which would’ve been blasphemous to turn down. And everyone knows when you finish the flight you have to order at least one glass of your favorite one. I ignored Drew’s dirty looks as Scott and I climbed into the cab and headed back to his place to burn off the calories from the hash browns and connolli French toast. I wouldn’t say our post brunch escapades became tradition as well exactly. But they did have a few repeat sessions. And not just after brunch. Scott and I had very little in common outside of bed and would’ve been disastrous as a couple. Thankfully, neither of us cared. We both continued to date and do our own thing but our lonely nights just were never lonely anymore. And the spanking? Let’s just say I use that thought on the nights that are lonely. It worked for us. Until it didn’t. My period was late and, while never really, truly regular, it was later than usual. Way past fashionably late. As Samantha and I watched the pee sticks (this was way too important for just one), for what felt like eternity to see what little symbol would appear (happy/sad faces, plus/minus, one line or two) I thought about the possibility of raising a child with Scott as the father. Even though the sticks of fate all turned out to be negative, I never let him in my pants again. Scott was only minimally phased. He had plenty of others on rotation.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· 29d

Today’s #wipsnips word is almost. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

“She sounds like a very wise woman and an excellent source of support for you,” Meri says as I tell her about my unexpected run-in with Christine the week before. I wouldn’t say her office has become a happy place for me per-se, but I no longer feel like all the air is being sucked out of me sitting on that couch. Which really is quite comfortable. I almost look forward to coming here every week. Almost.

“I wish I had realized that back then. But, here I go again, wishing I could change the past. I don’t know how to stop doing that. I’m mad at myself for not knowing how to support her. I’m mad at myself for not showing up. For not being grown-up enough to lean in to the relationship his mom would’ve likely been happy to have with me. To be a team. I’m mad at Grams for babying me, for making me feel I couldn’t do the things my gut was screaming at me I should. For not being there for me when I needed her. I’m mad at Anne for not talking to me, for shutting me out. I’m mad at myself for not pushing harder to get back in. I’m mad at Eva for fucking existing.” Meri’s eyebrows shoot up the way they always do when I curse. But I’m on a roll. There’s no stopping me now. “I’m mad at Marc for not telling me everything, for making sure I understood. I’m mad at myself for not pushing harder to get him to. For being oblivious and stupid. I’m mad at literally everyone and everything.” I’m also out of breath and panting.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 12

Finally enjoying the beach thanks to some Tegaderm over my wicked spider bite 🕷️#summervibes are the best vibes ☀️ #sunday #beach #books #booksky

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 12

Today’s #wipsnips word is “extra” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

Hey. I don’t think I’m gonna go.” Marc grabbed the remote and changed the channel, relaxing back down onto the arm of the couch.

“No way are you bailing.” Shutup, Bianca. What are you doing? Be cool. I hadn’t told Anne about my extra trips to see Marc in the hospital and, since Anne had never brought it up, I figured Marc hadn’t, either. It was just this giant elephant in the room and I didn’t want to give anything away. Or seem too eager with Marc, guys hated that.

Seemingly equally surprised at my enthusiasm, Marc raised an eyebrow. “I’m just not up to it,” he said but I noticed a slight turn up at the corners of his mouth and something flirty in his voice as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at me.

I reached for his hand and pulled him slowly up off the couch, almost managing to fall on top of him instead. I was not quite as strong as I liked to think I was. And I was clearly pure shit at playing it cool.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 12

They’re on the puzzle board. Technically not breaking any rules because they’re not actually on the table. Damn them and their adorableness #caturday #cats #catsky #catmom #catlover

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 11

My daughter and I enter the summer reading program at our local library every year. I’m going to read anyway. I might as well try to win a raffle basket full of coziness while I’m at it 🤷🏻‍♀️📚❤️ #books #booklover #reading #library #booksky

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 11

Today’s #wipsnips word is “attack”. My daughter has been making us listen to the Hamilton soundtrack repeatedly and, if you’re familiar, you’ll understand why I now have “attack, retreat” on repeat in my head 😂 #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky #amwriting #mentalhealth

“Do you have a history of trauma?” She asked.
Clearly in tune with the shocked look on my face, Nora explained.
“What you’re describing is, no doubt, very overwhelming. You’re doing the best you can in a difficult situation and you’re still being attacked. And it sounds personal and that often makes it hurt more. Because your work should be kept separate from whatever petty personal stuff might lie outside of that.” I was nodding. We were on the same page here. “But your reaction, your emotional and physical reaction, they appear trauma based.”
Now she lost me.
“You say you’re not cold yet you’re rubbing your arms with your hands like you’re shivering. You’re hyperventilating. You’ve basically collapsed over yourself like you’re trying to disappear.”
I suddenly became very self conscious. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. I guess I had just never realized I was doing that before. Or maybe I had r but just never really thought about it that way. Either way, she was right. Most people would probably get angry and vent. Maybe they’d cry to their spouse or best friend, pour a drink, and move on. They wouldn’t have a panic attack. They would put on their big girl panties and deal with it, right? And, once upon a time, I would’ve done the same. So what changed?
“I mean, I have anxiety. So it’s not that unusual to have this kind of reaction, right?” Nora nodded her head side-to-side like you do when you’re saying “so-so” to someone.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe when it first happened an extreme, panic kind of reaction would’ve been considered par for the course with anxiety. But not this continued kind of dread and re-experiencing it. That seems trauma based to me. Are you sure you haven’t experienced any trauma?” she prodded.
“I mean, everyone goes through stuff in their lives, right?” I shrugged.
“What kind of stuff?”
I looked around the tiny cubicle we were sitting in, with its serene blue chairs, the rest of the office shades of pale green. Colors chosen because studies sh…

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 11

#books #booklover #booksky

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 10

In this moment I’m appreciating this mug getting me through work shenanigans, that it’s Friday, and I have a weekend full of reading books ahead of me. What can you appreciate in this moment? #friday #weekend #books #booklover #tea #booksky

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 9

TW: reference to sexual assault. Today’s #wipsnips word is “keep”. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #metoo

For months after that I couldn’t even go in my own bedroom. I moved my dresser into the living room of my basement apartment in the city and kept the door to my bedroom shut. It was dead to me. I was dead to me. I didn’t know who I was anymore or how to trust anyone. Most of all I didn’t know how to trust me. It was my fault. I flirted with him. I let him in to my apartment after we’d been drinking. I thought I’d made the lines clear but I must not have. Somehow it was my fault. My home wasn’t safe anymore. I wasn’t safe anymore. The air constantly felt heavy. Heavy to breathe. Heavy on my skin. Just this constant weight, threatening to suffocate me at any moment. Around every corner was danger. I could try to keep explaining how it felt but, the truth is, if you’ve never experienced it there are no words that will do it any justice. To help you understand what it feels like to want to rip off your own skin and leave your body. Not to die. Not at all. But to live without having to do it inside the scene of the crime. My body was a walking crime scene. And all I wanted to do was burn it down.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 5

Today’s #wipsnips word is “bench” Marc is in his feelings and has a lot of pain from his accident. Bianca is trying to motivate him out of the house and to get some movement in. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky

True to his word, Marc went straight to the nearest bench as soon as we got to the lake. I stood a few feet in front of him, ensuring I was right in his eye line, and did some gentle stretching. Then, without a word, I sprinted just a few feet away.

“Come and get your reward,” I teased as I turned back to look at him, swaying my hips side to side.

“What?” His forehead did that cute little creasing thing it did whenever he was confused and I felt a smile spread across my face.

“Come get your distraction.” I slowly backed up, little by little, inching just slightly further away from him.

“My distrac…” Marc started.

“Me,” I interrupted, losing patience. “It’s me. I’m your distraction. Come and get me, Marc.” I crooked my finger at him with, what I hoped, was a come hither look in my eyes.

Marc started to stand up slowly. “A kiss? Bianca, I like kissing you but I was already doing that at home.”

“Maybe, but then why are you standing?” I laughed as his smile got bigger. “I’m going to keep moving until you start walking towards me,” I said as I continued backing up. “And yes, a kiss. First one is on the lips. But we need to make it all the way around that big, bad, lake. So each time you catch me, I’m going to move further around the lake and you’ll need to catch up again. And the further around the lake we make it, the further down my kisses go.”

Marc’s eyes got wide and he started walking towards me. I kept my word and immediately stood, rooted to the spot. Marc caught up, pulling me into him. “I’m ready to be distracted now.”

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 4

Today’s #wipsnips word is “round” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky

Marc had a new aide in his room and I knew immediately I wasn’t going to like him. I could tell Marc didn’t either, which probably had something to do with his earlier fit. He was a small, round, little man who reminded me of George Castanza from Seinfeld. His chair was obnoxiously close to Marc’s bed and he sent off a vibe that he would rather be anywhere else. The previous aides and nurses were overwhelmingly compassionate and kind. Castanza seemed almost oblivious to why he was there in the first place. Like Marc was some sort of criminal to be guarded and not someone just immensely tormented inside.

I stepped over the aide’s objectionably outstretched legs, like he owned the damn place, and quietly walked over to where Marc was sleeping. He looked so calm and peaceful, it was hard to imagine the earlier scene Christine had described. I sat down softly on the edge of his bed and ran my fingers gently through his hair. I still wasn’t used to seeing him so natural, no bling, no product in his hair, fake tan faded. He had never looked more beautiful.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 3

Today’s #wipsnips word is #out”. I went through 550 appearances of “out” in Armani and Cigarettes just to decide to go a different route entirely 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 TW - sexual assault reference. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky #amwriting #mentalhealth #metoo #ptsd

PTSD. I hate that fucking term. What’s “past” about trauma that never stops haunting you? That creeps up out of nowhere and consumes an otherwise perfectly wonderful day. Wonderful, that is, until some random, often unknown, trigger. There’s nothing “past” about the sudden inability to breathe; the need to start pacing, to digging my fingernails into my hands, leaving little crescent moons behind. When I’m suddenly not in my backyard anymore, listening to the birds singing. No, I’m back in that little, one bedroom, basement apartment, trying to scrub my skin raw and figure out who the woman staring back at me from the mirror is. She looks so sad. So empty.

I wrote an article about it once. The only real thing I’ve written in twenty years. Because I’d never pressed charges and he’d never been found guilty, I couldn’t even publish it under my own name. It wasn’t enough to change his name. No, mine, along with the details of what happened, could potentially lead people to figure out who he was. And so I had to write under a pseudonym to protect his identity. Ironic, isn’t it?

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 2

I went in for pants. But Marshall’s knew what I really needed #writer #books #writingcommunity #booklover #bookstagram

A pillow that says “Pretty girls read books”

A mug that says “buy me books and tell me I’m pretty”

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 2

Today’s #wipsnips word is “knock” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

I knocked rapidly, some might say a little too enthusiastically, on Marc’s door. I was dying to tell him about my editing assignment, trying to stay focused on the positives. I was so excited I was nearly bouncing up and down when he finally opened the door.

“You can’t just show up here. What if Eva was here?” Marc held the door open just a crack, his head sticking out, looking from side to side, like he was checking no one was about to ambush him.

I found myself momentarily speechless, something I wasn’t normally used to but that seemed to happen a lot when Marc was involved. Why in the hell would Eva be here?

“Why in the hell would Eva be here?”

I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, it sort of just came out, like word vomit. But once the initial shock wore off I was glad it had. It was one thing to still have her pictures up, to be having a hard time ripping off that band-aid. I hated it but I could sort of look the other way at that, all things considered. But, it was quite another for her to be hanging out with him in his bedroom. With his penis.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jul 1

Today’s #wipsnips word is “scarf” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

I wrap my scarf tighter around my neck to ward off the chill from the December wind. It’s been cloudy all day, the gray skies threatening rain. As I make my way slowly across the cemetery to Marc’s plot, I smile at the sun peeking between the clouds, shining a ray of warmth and light right across his section of the cemetery. Looking at the sky, I half expect it to down-pour everywhere other than where we are. While I feel his presence so many other times in so many other ways, there’s something about it happening at the cemetery that always makes it especially comforting. Some people find cemeteries depressing or even scary. But so much love lives here.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 30

I didn’t have today’s #wipsnips word “tournament” so I went with “games”. And now Lady Gaga’s Poker Face is stuck in my head on repeat #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

Marc went directly to a Blackjack table and waved down a waitress. “Order whatever you want.” No one needed to tell me twice. I ordered a Cosmo, grabbed some of Marc’s chips, and turned back to the table to be dealt in. “I thought you don’t gamble?” he asked, surprised.

“I mean, I took a chance on you, didn’t I?” I shrugged with a smile. “When in Rome.”

I won the first three games as Marc stared at me in astonishment. “Where’d you learn to play Blackjack?”

“In my college dorm. Where I also learned to play poker,” I added, sipping drink number who’s counting.

“Wait a minute, I thought I taught you poker…in the hospital.” He looked at me quizzically.

“It’s possible I let you think that because I had a really big crush on you and wanted an excuse to keep visiting someone else’s boyfriend. And so you would feel manly or whatever.”

“You lied about knowing how to play poker so I would feel… manly?” Marc shook his head as he squeezed my thigh. “Have you been playing me all along?”

I spun around on my stool as I sipped my drink. “I guess I have a good poker face.”

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 29

My car was involved in a hit and run while parked at work. So I’m dealing with a godawful rental while my car gets repaired. I was deeply saddened to learn that the “B” on this gearshift is for braking and not to turn it into the Batmobile. I mean, it’s already a black car…. #batman #cars #rental

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 29

Today’s #wipsnips word is “water” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #grief

I’d been wandering around numbly, absentmindedly running my fingers along the different items, just needing to touch something real. I found a cardigan I liked and tried it on, wrapping myself up in it like a cocoon, a protective barrier from a world I no longer understood. It was a little big and I didn’t see a smaller size on the rack. I found a salesperson who agreed to check the back for me but returned a minute later, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, everything we have in that is out. I can try to order it for you.”

Defying all logic, that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. I collapsed onto the floor in the middle of Old Navy, curled up into myself, sobbing into the too big cardigan. I vaguely heard the salesperson and several others gathered around asking if I was okay, offering tissues, water, to help me sit up. Someone asked if I was having a medical emergency and someone else yelled to call 911 just as my phone rang. It must have slipped out of my pocket on my descent to the filthy floor and Salesguy picked it up.

“Do you know someone named Allie?” he asked, panic and fear in his voice. “She says she’s your best friend?”

I nodded but made no effort to move. I heard Salesguy tell Allie about the scene I was causing and Allie must have explained what was going on with Marc as he suddenly got really quiet and said, “Oh, damn.” A minute later he hung up and slid the phone back towards me from a safe distance. “Your friend said she’s on her way.”

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 28

I went with “amazing” in place of today’s #wipsnips word, “sensational” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky

I waited impatiently at the valet stand in front of my building, late, as usual, completely clueless that my life was about to become unrecognizable.
No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get to work, or anywhere for that matter, on time. When I’d first moved to the waterfront complex in South Beach I thought valet parking was an amazing idea. More complexes should have it, I raved to everyone. What had I ever done without valet parking? At twenty-five, it was like I, Bianca Santoro, had made it in the world, like having someone else get my car made me someone. Which it did. It made me someone who was perpetually, frantically, late.
Gone were the days I could run out of my apartment with one shoe on, the other in my hand next to my key fob, spilling precious drops of coffee everywhere as I scrambled into the driver’s seat. No, now I typically had to wait my turn in line because, shocker, other people also needed their cars, then wait at least another five minutes (which doesn’t sound like a long time in theory but, when you’re already running late, it’s actually a freaking eternity) for the very sweet, but super slow, valets who seemed to have no concept of time no matter how much I tapped my one of a kind Santini Mavardis. (Acqua snakeskin strappy sandals. Totally worth the $400 price tag, even if I would be paying them off until I was thirty.)
Just as I saw my dilapidated Hyundai pull out of the garage across the street, no doubt with the radio station changed and the windows opened, including the back one with the broken motor that had to be pulled back up by hand, the familiar sound of Blondie’s Call Me rang out from inside my bag.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 27

I’ve shared all of my snips of today’s #wipsnips word “root” already other than ones that give away too much. So this is a reshare but one that always makes my daughter giggle at the image 😂 #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky #grief

I walked into work almost an hour late, my mind still reeling; like I was in a movie, not real life. I thought maybe I was actually still snuggled up in bed, just having a really, really, bad dream, and tried pinching myself, muttering a low ow under my breath. I was definitely not dreaming.
I slid into my chair and tried to remember who I was or how to speak, painfully aware that my face was covered in tear-streaked mascara and my sandy blonde ringlets were a giant rat’s nest of frizz. I looked like a troll doll. A troll doll on crack that had been run over by a MAC Truck several times. I must have been tugging at my roots while driving without even realizing it.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 25

My book reading skeleton needs a name! What would you name her? #skeleton #reading #booktok #booklover #books

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 24

I didn’t have today’s #wipsnips word “finale” so I went with “end” instead. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky #grief #loss #writer #writing #amquerying

As I look around, there’s a couple, maybe in their early twenties, arguing. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, listening to them bicker. Over shopping. You would think listening to them that one of them murdered the other one’s entire family. I’ve become acutely aware of couples around me, particularly the ones who are fighting. I can’t help but wonder if one of them dies if the other one would remember what they were fighting so passionately about. Being dragged along to check out the new fall fashions instead of being able to sit at home and watch the game? At the end of the day, was it worth it?

I hate those couples more than I hate the happy ones holding hands and melting into each other’s eyes, completely oblivious to the heartache and tragedy around them. More than the jealousy that envelopes me when trapped near one of those vomit inducing couples, I find myself overwhelmed with anger for the ones taking each other so much for granted. I want to shake them, to tell them that it really doesn’t matter if they’re watching the game or trying on velour jogging suits. All that matters is that they’re doing it together.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 23

I live with PTSD and anxiety. If you struggle with your mental health, you’re not alone. What works for you? Drop a comment. You never know who might need to hear it ❤️ #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #ptsd #anxiety #selfcare #writing #writer #mentalhealthmatters #writesky #writersky

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 23

I didn’t have penalty for today’s #wipsnips word so I went with “punish” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #amwriting #grief

“Would Marc have forgiven you?” she prods gently.
“For absolutely anything,” I acknowledge with an ache in my chest.
“Do you think he would’ve wanted you to punish yourself for the rest of your life? Or do you think he would want you to grow and keep going?”
Maybe it is that simple. It sounds ridiculous but, as she says the words, I feel the weight sliding off of me, like taking off a heavy, winter coat. Something has shifted. I can’t quite say what, I’m not truly sure, but there’s an undeniable shift.
“Are you still writing?”
A little off topic but, hey, she’s the professional I guess. “Every day. What’s that saying about tortured poets or artists or whatever? The more it hurts, the more I write.”
“About what?”
“Oh, um, nothing. Everything. I don’t know. I write some poems mostly, short bursts of feelings I guess. I’ve been trying to write a book, actually. About two people over thirty-five who decide to have a kid together. It gets me out of my head a bit, though I’m not sure it’s really any good.”
“There’s an old adage, isn’t there? Write what you know?” I stare blankly at her. “This, Bianca. Marc. Anne. You. All of it. This is your story. This is what you know. It’s beautiful. It’s tragic. It’s real. This is your story, you just have to write it.”
“I don’t know if I can. What if writing it all down, reliving all of it, what if it’s too much?”
“What if it’s exactly what you need to set you free?

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 22

Today’s #wipsnips word is “draw”, inspired by a period in my life where I was “kind of a big deal” and had an identity outside of “mom” 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky #writersky

Gabriel spun on his heels to face me, his eyes wide as he exclaimed, “Who? Did you seriously just ask me ‘who’? You work in entertainment, you need to know who Pharrell is! He seems to know who you are.”
I turned to look in the direction he was pointing. In the VIP section, behind a velvet rope and a handful of massive, scary looking, security guards, surrounded by some of the most attractive women I’d ever seen, was this adorable little guy who was smiling and appeared to be waving at me.
“I’ve never seen that man before in my life.” I shrugged and began walking as Gabriel was incredulously rattling off names of songs like they were questions.
“I Just Wanna Love You?”
“That’s Jay-Z,” I replied slowly, my brows drawing together, wondering how Gabriel could get that wrong.
"Featuring Pharell!" he shrieked, my eyes widening as I looked back at him trying to keep up with my pace. “Beautiful?” he added more quietly but still appearing shocked.
“I’m guessing my response isn’t supposed to be ‘Snoop’?” Gabriel smirked as he made a rolling motion with his hand, indicating for me to keep going. “Featuring Pharell?”
“Bingo!” he shouted with something concerningly close to jazz hands. “And your precious Britney Spears? He produced some of her songs. And songs for Nelly, Justin Timberlake, Gwen Stefani. Where have you been?” I kept walking, shaking my head. I honestly didn’t care about any of it. “Where are you going? You need to go over there! What are you doing?” Gabriel was tugging at my arm like a toddler. I sighed and turned around, walking back for the sake of my job.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 21

I went with “coat” in place of today’s #wipsnips word “jacket” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #grief

…and it dawns on me that I’m not alone; the overwhelming pain I’ve been carrying for almost a year is the same pain being felt by everyone whose left their loving memories behind for him. Even Eva. Ugh. She’s still a bitch, though.

I wrap my coat around me as a gust of wind blows through the open air and a chill runs down my spine. Kneeling on the ground, almost oblivious to the cold seeping through my leggings, I look at the picture on his tombstone again. I hear myself start talking.

“I don’t even know what to say. I had so much to tell you but now, now I don’t know what to say at all. I almost expect you to start the conversation. I mean, you’re sitting there smiling at me and I want to slap you. I want to slap that stupid smile off your stupid face.”

I start to cry, usually, that’s when I’d leave. I’d get in the car so no one else would see me break down, turn up my iPod, and drive off, forcing it all out of my mind. Instead, I stare at his picture, blurred by the stream of tears running wildly down my cheeks, and cry from somewhere deep inside. It’s the first time in a long time I’ve let myself freely grieve. And it feels like a dam breaking.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer@kaylee-scott· Jun 21

Recital night tradition continues - Applebees apps in bed. And we get to do it all again tomorrow! 🩰💃🏼 #dancemom #dance #recitalseason #parenting #momlife