
A place for stories about chronic illness, disability, mental health, and neurodivergence.

“I resent being 34 with no sense of self/beyond the trail of burned bridges,/broken trust,/and unfinished dreams.”

“I thought the pills would help/Ignore it/I see no reason/to pretend I am okay.” Poet Jess Barselow writes about masking and the tediousness of small talk.

Grief is a funny thing. It can be heart wrenching, devastating, or even performative. Jess Bareslow’s poem, free., details how hyperaware they were of how they needed to act after their father’s death.