Nausea, headache, intrusive thoughts, uncontrollable sobbing, and a chipped windscreen. Now seems like a perfect time to sit and stare into space and do nothing about my situation.
Published by Holly (she/her)
Holly is a poet, essayist, and immigrant who writes about feminism, politics, and Elvis. Her prose has been featured in several Medium publications and she is a co-host of The Art House’s Moving Voices open mic night. View all posts by Holly (she/her)
Published
Waiting for Winter 