There is a hatred that festers under your skin, so visceral and primal, a contempt for yourself that you dare not speak aloud. The hatred burns, scorching flames peeling away at your skin. The fire does not rebirth you; you are no phoenix.

Ananya ManivannanGuest UserNovember 24, 2021nonfiction, creative nonfiction, isolation

Lonely Nights

I am an old haunt frequented by the cruel, unforgiving ghosts of loneliness.

Ananya ManivannanGuest UserFebruary 17, 2021creative nonfiction, nonfiction, mental health, loneliness

Fantasia

I stared listlessly at the darkness beyond my window, the faint reflection of my face in the glass, and nothing else…

NONFICTION