Simply, for me, writing supports my beingness. It holds all of the complex and multidimensional aspects of my personality.
I left home at 19, and came back aged 27 with my own daughter. "You should be writing," Dad said. It was the dream that still eluded me.
This year has taught me one thing: In doing fewer things and sitting with nothingness and boredom, I’ve started hearing the murmurs of my soul.
Do you have a story to share about what life has been like after surviving a suicide attempt? Do you experience suicidal feelings and/or thoughts and would you like to share how it is to live through them? We would be honored to have your story as part of the project.
We were sitting in the student union, on those wood benches, heads bent over paper napkins with pictures drawn in dark pencil. Your hair was longer than mine, and my learned defiance was large as continents. And there were symbols sketched, that would become ink branded forever on skin, that ...