Socially awkward.

I was born from complacent duty
And an alcoholic dependency
Forced out the womb with forceps

Without parental or medical foresight
On how it would affect me. It motivated me
To see limitations as my enemy.

The kin to me would be unknown
Because I was born to this world
But not of it. A singularity.

Only defined by self.
Made in the image of self.
Self made.
Purposed by the most High.

Most of the time… high on hopes
Doped up on fantasy, to escape
An abusive reality… but the stench
Of misery’s scent was stuck to me
Once upon a time

Toxic ties that tethered
Me to despair
I didn’t care to stay there

So I gave myself to prayer
To let my Maker bare the burden
Once I did that I became aware
Of the joy that life offers

I know who I am
Very soon so will you too
With all my love

Dear Young Allison,
I wish that I could reach back in time, wrap my arms around you, and tell you that what you’re facing doesn’t define you. I know you’re carrying so much weight – both physically and emotionally – and a lot of it comes from the words of someone you love. Maw-Maw’s comments, sharp and painful, dig deep don’t they? It feels like every meal is watched, every outfit is scrutinized, and every part of you is seen through a lens of judgement. I want you to know something important: that shame is not yours to carry.

You are not the problem, your body is not a problem, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation or an apology for how you look. You’re more than a number on a scale or the size of your clothes. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but those criticisms are not about you; they’re a reflection of Maw-Maw’s own struggles, insecurities, and maybe even the world she grew up in. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, does it? You deserve to hear words of love and kindness, and I’m here to tell you those words now.

You are strong. Not just in the way your body carries you, but in how you carry yourself through the endless comments, the side glances, and the unsolicited advice. That strength will become your superpower. One day, you will realize that the things you’ve been told are flaws are actually what make you resilient, fierce, and beautiful.

There will be a moment-many moments, really-when you look at yourself and feel pride. Your body will transform, not because you finally fit someone else’s standard, but because you’ll build it into what makes you feel powerful. Every step you take, every choice you make for your own health and happiness, will feel like reclaiming parts of yourself that were never lost, only hidden under layers of doubt planted by others.

You’ll learn that beauty is not something anyone else can define for you. It’s in the way you move, the way you love, the way you laugh. And one day, you’ll see yourself as I do now: strong, capable, beautiful, inside and out. Maw-Maw’s voice will fade, replaced by your own, full of love and confidence.

Until then, be kind to yourself. You’re already so much more than anyone ever gave you credit for, and I’m so proud of the women you’ll become.

With all my love and strength,
Grown, beautiful, stronger and older Allison

Dear Little Kendy,
Has Mom come home yet? I can feel your anticipation waiting for a friendly face to enter through the front door. She works hard day and night for your well-being, yet that feeling of emptiness lingers. You crave to be in the presence of another human; you always appreciate the intimacy of a lively conversation. I remember it as if it were yesterday, but for you, it’s now. Waking up in an empty house was always a struggle. Breakfast for one. Playing with our toys was a satisfying pastime. In those isolated moments, Barbie, Pinkie Pie, and our hundreds of Littlest Pet Shop figurines comforted me. After traveling the world, creating new friends, and becoming a fashion icon with my “Gal Pals,” I’d turn to television for new excitement. It was always “Friends.” Chandler, Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, and Ross! The gang’s all here! While giggling at Monica’s head stuck in a turkey, I heard her keys jingle. Mom opened the door and sighed. “Friends again?” she spoke. Little did she know I rewatched the same show over and over again because I admired the character’s willingness to spend as much time with each other as humanly possible. Episode after episode, I felt included in their world. Mom and I had our usual little routine. I yap her ear off and she engages as best as she can. I loved our time together, but soon I’d have to close my eyes and be alone all over again. I did everything in my power to escape the endless loop of alone time. Hanging out with our neighbors, who I barely enjoyed spending time with, as a means of escaping my impending solitude. Throughout middle school, I intended to establish connections with as many people as I could, so I’d never have to be alone again. Just know, you do just that. You will meet some of the most kindhearted and compassionate individuals in your life, most of which I am still friends with today! We became close instantly, making it even easier for me to become attached. After getting my first “real” phone, we talked all the time. Late-night Roblox sessions, gossiping about the cutest boys in our grade, or weekly trips to Galleria Mall were times I looked forward to. I remember those school days filled with unforgettable moments, and how I’d rush home to dive straight into voice chat with friends. My routine drastically changed and my alone time ceased to exist. My high school experience was just the same. If someone was throwing a party, I was there. If a friend wanted to grab food, I was there. “Want to come to my dentist’s appointment?” “Absolutely!” I found myself leaving for school at 5 am, going to work until 9 pm, and then staying out until midnight. I graduated high school in May of last year. Everything I had known, changed. I started picking up shifts at work to make up for the lack of school interaction. From June 2023 to May 2024, I went out almost every day. With time, I realized I was pushing myself far beyond my limits. I grew tired and rarely took a second to check in with myself. At the beginning of this summer, I had very few plans, my friends got jobs or boyfriends, and I was alone once again. I cried endlessly. Why was I unable to be alone? Didn’t most people find peace in solitude? I began watching TikToks about self-improvement and emotional regulation. Everyone always said the same thing. “Journaling changed my life.” Initially, I thought those people were naive, but it turns out the only naivety present came from me. I bought an aesthetically pleasing journal, those fancy ballpoint pens, and set an intention for myself. Page 1 of my journal reads, “Contentment.” Journaling quickly became my healthy attachment. I opened up about my thoughts and experiences, reflected, and came to the conclusion I was relying on others for abundance. I am rereading my 2024 affirmations while writing you this letter. On a charcoal-colored page, adorned with constellations and a bouquet, it reads, “I create my own happiness” in my semi-cursive handwriting. Over the summer, I worked hard towards self-improvement and engaged in solo activities including crosswords, building Legos, and practicing Pilates. Now, I am whole and look forward to coming home and experiencing new moments with myself. Overcoming my fear of being alone was a transformative journey where I realized solitude doesn’t equal loneliness, but rather becomes a sanctuary for growth and discovering contentment.
Xoxo,
Twenty-Something Kendy

It was my seventh birthday. The air was stale even at 10 a.m., as it was on most late August days. An echoing hard knock on the forest green-colored door that guarded our house on Grace Ave alarmed me. Even though I was only seven (hours into the age), the knock raised an alert in my stomach that made it drop many stories. Two officers, one holding papers, spoke to my mother as I stood in the doorway, shielding behind her legs. Both officers entered our house, took our furniture, and started throwing it outside. My mother told me to pack my bag with my essentials, which were at the time my favorite blanket, and my Batman action figures. I remember the bass
in my mother’s voice as she begged the men not to take away our home. I remember the bright
eyes of each of our neighbors as they watched from their kitchen windows. I remember the
sound of broken glass as each of the dishes and mugs that once filled our kitchen and served us
dinner every night hit the concrete ground right at the curb of our street. But what I remember most is watching the brand new set of bunkbeds that were an early birthday present being hauled away. I begged for bunkbeds for years to accommodate my friends for sleepovers, but as quickly as my wish was granted after blowing out the candle of last year’s cake, my brand new bed was being tossed into the trash. The sequence of events was blurry after that, as my mother and I
bounced around for years and couch-surfed in many friends’ living rooms. In each new apartment we had, I was hesitant about unpacking my items and often kept them in boxes to not get too comfortable. Even as the years went by and I had my apartments with roommates or current significant others, I refrained from mixing my kitchenware or knick-knacks with theirs because the idea of being vulnerable in my own home was foreign. In one relationship, we combined our books on a bookshelf (in alphabetical order of author’s last name), which fit perfectly into the
space. After a nasty breakup, I came home from work, and the bookshelf was half empty, and my books were the only thing left that was standing in that relationship. My heart went back to my old house on Grace Ave as my body was standing in its same form just a decade later. But this time, instead of feeling empty and without shelter, I reminded myself that it was healthy to let myself be vulnerable and trust another space and another person, as it took me many years to do so. I also realized that I even trust myself. Yes, the books were gone along with some furniture out of our shared apartment, but I still had shelter. I will be okay.

However, to this day, I still crave having bunkbeds even as an adult.

love is a cruel thing.
healthy or not, it was better than to not feel,
life can be funny that way,
how you could keep coming back after leaving,
now again i see you inching towards me,
you will extend your hand in an attempt to reach mine,
“help me”,
i whisper, “no”.

i gave myself to “friends”
who took and took,
connected as if i meant to resuscitate,
as if i owed them the weight of my own breath.

without a roof over my head, a vagrant in the streets of baltimore,
home was memory,
i lost everything i had trying to give you something you never deserved,
trying to take on your burdens like they were my own,
but the water my body belongs to has taught me an invaluable lesson,
i can float alone.

so i chose to swim,
i chose to build,
brick by brick, dollar by dollar,
the last time i had extended myself,
i took my hand,
homeless was my turning point
i’m the one who deserves my love,

but plan to live well,
to have more than i ever wanted to have, knowing now how i deserve it all,
if only in my mind i am far away,
i’ll decide my ending.

We fix things because we cannot part with them.
We sew. We stitch. We glue. We nail.
We part with things we cannot repair.
We toss away. We grind up. We wash away.
But some things never go away.
We hurt. We love. We grow.
Some things have a bind greater than can be discarded.
Some things we question our motives in keeping.
Some things we question are the desire to part with.
Some things we cannot live without.
We go through life collecting and discarding as if we own the world.
And we go through life collecting and discarding hope, love, and growth.
I loved you even after the moment you left.
I still hope that you will always take space in my thoughts.
I grow from every moment you give me on this earth.
I will repair from the experiences.
I will sew a patch on my heart.
I will stitch all the bad memories closed.
I will glue together the spaces where anger lies deep.
I will nail closed the door so that others can no longer see them.
And after the repair, I won’t hurt anymore. I won’t hurt others anymore.
I will grow and allow others to gain from me.
And I will love those you put in my life that I have shunned because of the hurt.
I will repair what has been tossed away.
I will love them without barriers so they may learn to love without barriers.
Together, we will repair this family so younger generations keep love in their hearts.

Little One,
Today you will feel confused, broken, and, though you won’t admit it, angry. I want you to know that all those feelings are perfectly acceptable. Your year seemed miserable because of so many decisions that you had absolutely zero control over. Yet, you persevered. Moved by school politics away from you friends to a new school; stuck in classroom with a teacher you struggle to connect with; I know the highlight of your day is teaching in the peer tutoring program. As you have helped Shane become more confident in his reading, he has taught you to be more confident in yourself, your faith, and place in this world.
Right now, you know something is wrong and the adults around you won’t tell you because they know what will come when they do. Your innocent smile will be shattered with sorrow as you learn of the death of your friend. They didn’t mean to hide it from you but as pastors your parents couldn’t tell you until things were settled. Later your mom will tell you how she could feel your sorrow before it came. Your Dad will sit by your bedside stroking your hair until the tears stop and exhaustion take you.
Do not feel guilt in the coming days over pushing your teacher’s hug away or walking away from discussions over what happened. You will grieve in your own way. Adults will give you loads of advice. They will talk about closure and honoring your friend. You don’t have to do it in the ways they suggest. You will do it on your own, in your own way.
Your healing will start small; checking the book out of the library that you were reading with him and finishing it, sounding out and defining the parts you think he might struggle with. In a few months you will be give up the flash cards you made for him, they will be used to help other kids. Eventually you will be able to enjoy recess again. Before the end of the year, you will even be able to let someone sit in “his” seat next to you on the bus. Until then, be glad you play the trombone. It makes a great shield until you are ready.
Most of all, know that this is not the end of Shane’s story. You will think of him often and even tell stories of him. As you grow up, you will take solace in writing and glimpses of him will appear in the characters you commit to page. You will recall how when you were struggling helping someone else succeed eased that burden just a little. So, you will honor Shane and his inherent generosity by helping someone else. You will relive those moments of teaching and friendship as you help your nephews. For the rest of your life this relationship will shape how you interact with children, and you will be called upon to make a difference in difficult situations. As a camp counselor, a volunteer, an Auntie, and a friend you will be entrusted to care for children that are struggling with grief, confusion, brokenness, and anger.
Shane’s memory lives on in the people whose lives he touched, a surprising number for someone so young. You are one of those people and you will do him proud.

A letter to little Ashley,

Your such a vibrant , joyous loving soul. With your big brown eyes and dimples that helped illuminate the brightest cheeky smile. Though you were so brave and adventurous, with your tom boy essence as a child , you carry a light that is other worldly, that so many have seen, even in this current moment of time. Its been years when i finally opened that trap door in the shadows of my mind where you were forced to hide all those years. Chained by the spirit of fear. From the negative talks of the projections of faithless word cursing that crushed the magic of creation you had inside that was birthing, it had seemed to have died and smoldered in the ashes of self ,within.
Though it was their diminished beliefs, and self centeredness , they were indeed clueless without bearing witness to your trauma caused by the sexual acts that took place in the basement. The yelling from the constant bedwetting and the stuttering and stammering over words from excitement not noticing it was a clue to the breach within our genetic system. It was the cause of your delayed learning and bouts of anger, because you couldn’t express growing beyond your mental cognition it cause a schism. From that rose a grim reaping to loom over your divinity that tarnished your faith and strength in self for years, and that became the same fear and pain that grew like a tumor of cancer throughout our life. As of today, i am still battling that parasite, just so you can unleash the power you’ve had to hide for so long out of defense.
As the world turns, we together were forced to grow up through the challenges, but before i could even realize this separation happened between us , You were so far deeply pushed into the darkness, so much so that your laughter became silence like a murmur in the distance. Somehow its reminiscent like the autumn leaves i can hear rustling in the wind outside my window like tonight. “Now there’s a voice in my mind saying ,How About Some hot chocolate, with tons of marshmallows foaming at the brim of the cup!? I bet that’ll bring you back to life and perk you up! ”( Like it used too) Lets be optimistic!
That’s how i know your vibrancy still lives within! You give me strength, for today, feeding me sweets and cakes that make us both dance from the goodness of its taste!
I cant help but to laugh.
And you show up even in my daughter, to remind me that my inner child is still alive within. You are my bestfriend, little me! We both have to thank the Great Spirit for wiping the images from our mind at that time, because we both know that had we remembered all these years before we found out who we really are, we wouldnt be here today talking like this with smiles on our face.
“Ive walked away and slammed so many doors to the past just so i can have you back in my life in order for you to feel safe again , because i love you that much. I wanted you to come back outside that door they tried to lock you in. I wanna be your protector and your guardian, because i need you for the future. I need you so that my daughter can proceed to carry the light further, because she too is a mirror of you and the joy ,the love and the happiness you possess. Your childlike nature has helped ME preserver through some of the most heinous things that as a woman should have taken me out, though at times i did slip up and look back and it cause me to regress. But by the grace of GOD, you streamed through like a lifeline into my heart, like a light code that spoke through a frequency saying that all is not lost , you gotta get up! The flame that burns within comes from the light in you. I Know these words are deep to fathom, but i also know that you innerstand, as the cosmic force that you are because you have the keys to reawaken my freedom.
“Our freedom”, for the starseed that we are.We feed and grow and rise with one another in tandem, as if we are an infinite force like that of a sacred symbol.”
Of Course we together will never forget the things that happened, how could we? It is what made us who we are today! It is The story we wrote before we came to this planet in order to awaken and find purpose with one another. Together we are one, a clean heart though it has been bruised with scars that are beautiful. I just want to say thank you, because you as the force that you are is what helped me get up off the floor when i was knocked down to my knees as i rose from the tar pit of my own bloodshed in anguish. You are the light, you are the breath and the spark from the heavens that i look up too everyday when the sunrises. I love you little booger !
You are my Sunshine,
My Ash,
I Love You ❤️

It’s not your fault, in anger, that she screamed
whenever boredom tempted, “screw the rules”
but break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

Her parenting just followed grandma’s lead,
a single mom with seven in her brood.
It’s not your fault, in anger, that they screamed.

For years, repressed emotions build up steam
and beg release with adolescent moods,
but break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

You raise a family, childhood unhealed,
without the aid of healthy guidance tools;
it’s not your fault, in anger, that you screamed.

Time tempers; quenched with knowledge, habits yield,
are tested through your grandson’s ones and twos;
you’ll break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

On days so pure they dim your brightest dreams,
recall the short-fused tension of your youth—
it’s not your fault, in anger, that she screamed;
you broke the cycle so this boy can breathe.