July 2011
14 posts
chan seryranth
i started sponsoring a child in march from cambodia. i’d prayed a lot about it beforehand and felt a peace about it. i wanted to choose someone from cambodia — a young girl. because young girls from cambodia are some of the mose suseptible to being trafficked for sex. i wanted to feel like i was helping the family with the burden of feeding and taking care of the child so that she...
blossoming.
when i think about the word “blossoming”, i think about puberty. i remember being 10, 11, 12 years old and teachers and other various adults telling me that i was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. i hated that word. nothing about going through puberty is cool. i felt really awkward and flat-chested and i did not feel beautiful.
as i’ve got older and puberty is behind me,...
21 firsts on my 21st.
this past year i… 1. got my tragus pierced 2. moved out of my house and went away to school 3. roomed with one of my closest friends, and moved away from another 4. told my last secret (no more hiding) 5. went to counseling for a year 6. dressed like a man 7. went to a school dance 8. became a vegetarian 9. chopped all my hair off 10. aquired a taste for black coffee 11. went to a club 12....
what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it...
when i was a child, from about the ages 10-12 or 13, i can remember getting nightmares. i was afraid of the dark often. somewhere around there, however, they ended. and i thought that was the last of them. but for whatever reason, they returned again a few years ago, and the nightmares i had then are nothing like i have now. i’ve tried so many things to “cure” myself of them, as...
the road not taken.
i’m a huge fan of robert frost, and when i was in high school, i read some of his poetry to help me bring shape and inspiration to my own writing. one poem of his inparticular, called the road not taken, made me think about purpose and meaning quite a lot. in the poem there are two roads that the poet is wrestling over. he is vague as to which one is taken, but he does say he let’s out...
i don't want to hurt you. i just want you to know...
i miss the beach. i miss the waves. i miss the beauty. i miss the silence. sometimes my hurt feels like sand. rough to the touch. it gets in everything too. in my ears and my shoes and between my fingers. i will take a shower multiple times and still find lingering sand on my scalp from previous days at the beach. the hurt can crawl into every inch of me, fill up my lungs and grab at my heart....
The Jesus People.
i’ve begun my goodbyes. tomorrow i leave a very special part of my heart behind. today at work, i spoke with a few of the older women about some struggles i’ve been having with sleeping…nightmares and a big scare i had last night. i felt very awkward talking about it, because it’s hard for me to weed out what was real and what was a dream…as well as what was...
in her shoes.
destitute. desparate. lonely. abused. poor. depressed. tired. frustrated. neglected. right now i am wearing a homeless woman’s shoes. i’ve met with a single homeless woman in the park about 3 times now. and she gave them to me. she found out i was her same size, and said she wanted to give me a gift but she had nothing else to give me. i fought with her…i was very adament that...
that one time.
so i’m laying out on the beach. minding my own business. eyes closed. ipod going. when all of the sudden i feel something touching my foot. not wanting to roll over and examine it, i assume it’s a bug and kind of flick my foot to get it off. 5 seconds of it being gone makes me feel as though i’ve accomplished something. but i was so wrong. whatever it was, it was clamped on to my...
sex slave.
pre-packaged and sold to suffer between your lips, i am made to fit the mold you can strangle in your grip you hold tight to what you own just another shelved product no one hear’s the quiet moan of the lifeless, pale object with every drag, i feel it the burn inside my skin and there’s no time to heal it when i’m in the hands of men you laugh and blow your smoke the world...
