SOS

I’m just so fucking sad and disappointed in myself and life and everything. I have worked so hard to get my BA and my MA, I’ve gone to three universities, I’ve worked a bunch of part time, minimum wage jobs, I literally moved to a different continent to get an affordable education and I come back here and I apply to job after job after job and I hear NOTHING back from anyone and I am at the end of my rope tbh. I can’t stay in this town anymore I want to die most of the time when I’m here there is NOTHING here for me or anyone else, it’s a dead end and it’s filled with townies who have zero ambition and Stepford Wives who are one more shot of botox away from looking like real, actual goddamn robots and I just HAVE to get OUT of here. I want to be a writer, I need to network and get out there and that’s why I am so desperately trying to get to California or New York or somewhere that feels like LIFE is actually happening because let me tell you what it’s NOT happening here. When I boarded my flight in London in September to come back here (after applying for jobs in England for MONTHS and hearing nothing) I took a Xanax and drank two mini bottles of Spanish wine and still had a panic attack as I wept because I KNEW I’d be trapped here and I’d never get out and once again my instincts were right.

I am drowning. And there’s no lifeguard on duty.

The Bathtub

She sat in the lukewarm water for going on the second hour, and kept her eyes closed, not wanting to accidentally catch her reflection in the mirror opposite. She used to fit in this tiny bathtub much more easily, but she had stopped paying attention to what she ate at least six months ago; maybe longer, she couldn’t be sure anymore. The bath salts had settled under her legs and bum, the bubbles long since popped, leaving a milky, white film on the surface of the water. That deep sense of aching, that had been permeating her stomach and chest for hours was still there, sinking her further down onto the white ceramic, until she felt absorbed by the cool material. She never knew where this sadness came from, but when it hit, it felt like being stuck in a room as you watch the walls slowly be consumed with fire, and you’re waiting for the inevitable explosion. The heat of the flames sounded good right now, she mused. Reaching the tap to add hot water to the tub would be simple, but she couldn’t muster the energy to rise up and reach out for it, so instead, she sank further, until her head dipped below the surface of the water, and she could taste the manufactured lavender scent against her tongue. She didn’t know how long she was going to stay under there.

Original Work: Kelsey H. 1.23.17

2008

I think Barack Obama was a good President, and I think he is a good person as well. Was he a perfect President? No. Did he makes mistakes? Of course. Did I agree with all of the decisions he made as President? Absolutely not. But I am able to see the bigger picture, and understand his impact on history, and culture, and celebrate his many accomplishments, whilst still acknowledging his failures as well.

Working on President Obama’s 2008 campaign saved me during a very dark time in my life. College was hard for me. I struggled a lot meeting people and making friends. I found out about a group of students on campus who supported Obama before he even announced his candidacy in February 2007. And I joined them. During college, I suffered from crippling loneliness, anxiety, and depression, and dealt with daily panic attacks for months. His campaign, and the friends I made whilst working on it, SAVED me. They gave me purpose, they gave me drive, and they gave me friendship. My time working for his campaign gave me a reason to keep going, and something to believe in. It gave me hope. And he HAS changed the landscape and trajectory of American history, whether people like to acknowledge that fact or not.

I am grateful. Eternally grateful. And I will never forget that, or apologize for it. Thank you, President Obama. For everything.

KEH. 1.11.17

People

People love to pretend that everything will be ok, and will work out. But the ugly, ugly truth is we don’t know that that’s true. There’s no guarantee in life that everything will work out? Or that everything happens for a reason? Or that we’ll all end up happy? Or find love? It’s all a fairytale. And no one wants to admit that to themselves, or to others. But it’s true. I can’t pretend like things are ok or my life is going the way I want it to or that things will work out. Because none of that is true. Because I don’t know if they will. I have lived a very blessed life, and I am grateful for it. But I can’t pretend like certain things aren’t missing. Yes I have traveled and seen some of the most beautiful cities in the world, and for that I am eternally grateful, and truly, truly blessed, and thankful. But I’ve never felt love, true love, and that makes am very sad. I’ve never felt like anyone’s first choice. I’ve always felt like a burden. And that hurts. I feel very alone most of the time, and it’s very painful. Isolation and loneliness can kill you. But you have to try and keep fighting. And I am trying. I’m trying. Trying.

K