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I’m watching my figs rot right in front of me simply because I cannot choose which one to eat first. There are many things to be in this lifetime—a poet, a teacher, a doctor, a pharmacist—and yet, I stand with the options in front of me, watching them rot and slowly drop from the tree because I can’t decide which one looks the sweetest, the juiciest. I’ve decided that you don’t have to pick a singular fig to be successful or to mean something in this world. You can pick as m

“Death is what makes life meaningful.” I have been thinking a lot about this quote in recent days, and I think I believed it to be true at one point. We know we’re all stumbling towards an inevitable death, so that’s what makes us want to live. It’s what provides meaning to our monotonous days. I’m not so sure this is true anymore, or rather I’m not sure I believe it. I find it, in a sense, quite egotistical to say death is the only thing that provides our life with any me

I watched Regretting You with my family the other day, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Yes, the script was cringey and some things felt more rushed than others, but the meaning and the story behind it were much more beautiful than people are giving credit for. Regretting You reminded me that you don’t have to understand someone to love them. Sometimes love is messy, wordless, and even good intentions can sound like slammed doors. Clara and Morgan—daughter

When I was little I used to wait for my fairy godmother. I was certain she’d appear the moment life got too heavy, waving her wand, ready to make life golden again. She’d appear in a soft shimmer of light, just when things started to hurt. She’d be a little late for bed time and a little early for the next day at school, but she’d be there nonetheless. But the older I got, the longer I waited. No one ever came. I lost the magic of believing someone would come save me. Recentl