sadness

Hey Church, Stop Sad-Shaming Me

Hey Church, Stop Sad-Shaming Me 1920 1280 Jason Ramsey

Irecently heard a sermon about ‘how to avoid contentment’. It was part of an otherwise-enlightening series about ‘how to mess up’ in life. In it, the pastor, who I greatly…

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Nine suggestions for when you’re NOT on a mountaintop

Nine suggestions for when you’re NOT on a mountaintop 150 150 JJ Landis

Maybe it’s because I have been sick for a week now that I feel like I’m in a rut. It very well could be the cough medicine and general delirium…

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Fractal

Fractal 150 150 Jason Ramsey

This is the point where trying to hold things together for everyone else makes me fall apart. Fractal. It’s not supposed to be like this. We were made in His…

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On communion and faking it

On communion and faking it 150 150 JJ Landis

Take and eat. This is my body, broken for you. My head is exploding in pain. Day two. Could be I need an updated prescription for my glasses. Or I…

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D is for Depression

D is for Depression 150 150 Cara Strickland

I never know quite when she’s going to creep up next to me. It feels a little like the way the sun goes behind the clouds on a bright summer…

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Webs (Haibun)

Webs (Haibun) 150 150 Emily Simmons

My head is full of clouds—dark gray and pushing at my skull. Giving my consciousness over to sleep will relieve the pressure, I am sure. Cinder blocks push in while the clouds  push out. The speckled linoleum holds my attention. When the red numbers in the clock  on the back wall glow 8:50 the lecturer dismisses the class. Sleep-deprived-dazed  students blink.     Blink. I stand with them, stuff folders and notebooks into my backpack. The classroom  empties into a hallway filled with the same flow of linoleum and students mumbling to  one another. No one is really awake yet. We are off to find something for that. Black  caffeine in a mug. A seat in the back row of the next class so there is a chance of  escaping disapproval as they slump into a nap. A bed.    I wind down the stairwell, out three sets of doors into the biting morning. A dull  sidewalk connects me to my dorm. My bed waits. Decorative grasses have grown up tall  between the cement paths. Something strung amidst their wild stems stops my progress  toward sleep.    Dew pearls suspend—  gleam between dead   and fading grass. 

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Because God Doesn’t Reside In The Neon Plastic Crevices Of Your Bulls**t Hamster Wheel

Because God Doesn’t Reside In The Neon Plastic Crevices Of Your Bulls**t Hamster Wheel 150 150 Hannah Paasch Cosand

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this…

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