In my youth, I had found there wasn’t much I liked. I hated loud chewers. People who asked how I was. I hated when people looked me in the eye and hated when people wore bright colors. Shirts with sayings. I hated when it was too hot out, or not hot enough, or too bright. I hated when a person’s laugh came out reserved and when a person laughed too loud. I hated being alone, and I hated crowds too. 
“There has to be something you like,” my therapist said, “something that you enjoy.” I almost felt my face reach boiling point. My heart raced, and my fingers dug into the sides of my legs. I hated when people did that. I hated when people pried. I hated to talk about myself. “You don’t have to answer right away…” she encouraged gently. “Just think for a moment.” I hated when people spoke to me in that way; why would I need time to consider? I hated to feel stupid or behind. I hated being given time. I stared down at my feet, but the weight of time passing became crushing. I hated to take too long. “I like music.” My eyes never left the floor, and her eyes never left me. “I like music, and I like to draw.” I found myself convinced of her motive. She wants to appear indifferent to my answer in an effort to elicit a response from me. I figured this would give her an opinion on me, and I hated perception, too. Being in and out of therapy had taught my young mind something: in order to overcome, you had to break open and fall apart, and the idea of it frightened me more than it angered me.
As I grew older, I found the things I loved changed very little. I still love music, and I still love art. I’ve since been to art school and have since learned many new songs and new artists’ names. What surprised me the most was this: I didn’t hate all those things when I was young. I hated me. My mother often laughed at those things I hated—not to be cruel, though. Those things I despised were all things I did as well. In my childhood, I came across people who hated the things that I loved. And in a desperate act to be something they loved, I altered myself to become more desirable. I couldn’t be too loud or too quiet. I couldn’t be flashy or too modest. You were supposed to fit in no matter what.
I didn’t realize it, but I had become a pretty good liar in the sense that I had fabricated this life that was not my own, and somehow it wasn’t even one I enjoyed. But you knew that, didn’t you? For years you were watching, lurking within my shadow; you were waiting for me to notice—or waiting for me to learn about you as much as you had learned about me. It took heartache after heartache, but I fought hard to change. How could I turn this anger—this hatred—into something bigger than myself, because it had always been bigger than me. 
I sat on my front porch one day, and my stomach was empty. It was fall. The trees were stripping themselves of their leaves, coating the ground in a dance of oranges, reds and browns. I thought about how long it takes a tree to grow—and to sprout leaves. I thought to myself, what is the point of growing if all you do is change? And then it clicked. I remembered in that moment, being a small child, not even ten years old. I sat on the porch just as I was now, and I had thought about how beautiful the trees looked. I hadn’t given it much thought past that, but every season I would sit on our creaky wooden porch and stare out at the trees that had always been there. I loved them because they could change. Something changed in me that day—I felt outside of myself. I knew what you would be for me—the have the freedom to change. 
I’m not a perfect person, but I had to let you know what you’d done for me. By knowing you, I’ve come to know myself better. My friends tell me I have a loud, teethy, wheezy laugh. It fills a room they say. Bright colors compliment me well, and my silly t-shirts tend to catch a laugh or two. By loving you, I’ve come to love myself. Without the freedom to change, I’d still be that angry child I’d been for years.
I am no longer who I was.
—Kara Gay

Soft fur brown eyes the last gift he gave to me
you were there the night he died holding me in the dark
through all those nights feeling lost and alone
unloved by those around me
you were there to remind me that love does excise
you were there when I awoke from the pills, I took thinking I fail at everything
the look I see is you imploring me to go on
I keep moving through life slowly while time goes by fast
then one night a fire caught, and the blaze destroyed everything
you were gone lost in the flames of memories past
I dug through Debrie hoping you survived crying and screaming for you not to be gone
covered in soot and mud I sit and cry wanting you here
my cherished item that helped me though this life gone forever in flames
how will I go on without my teddy bear to remind me that I was loved once

Crab Rangoon,
Your light and crispy exterior excite me when I see you. The steam billowing off you when you are fresh from the fryer. I like to tear you open. That crunch and pull ignites my salivary glands, knowing what awaits me on the inside. The sweet and tangy creaminess melts in my mouth with the crispy skin that sends the happy hormones to my brain. You are my one true crabby, creamy love. I smile at the thought of you, swoon at the sight of you, and delight in every bite of you. I look for you on every menu and forage for you at every buffet. Your pinched little puffed body beckons me closer, like a ray of sunshine to a dying plant. My love for you only grows with each encounter. I ardently await our next meeting.
Love,

I love Joy. It’s spontaneous, it’s new, it’s always unexpected, but it always feels so good.

I love Joy; it’s simple, not complicated; it doesn’t boast or brag; it’s just simply exhilarating.

I love Joy, the only time I don’t feel down. Joy feels like running through a field of flowers, being hugged for a very long time, and laughing so much that tears roll down your eyes. Joy is so beautiful. Even thinking about it brings a smile; there is no doubt about it. I think I may just share the love of my life. I don’t mind sharing because we all need Joy. It’s irreplaceable, unforgettable; it’s embedded in our hearts and minds. I love Joy, don’t you?

You never had a name, but you held pieces of my life like a time capsule strapped in with a faulty seatbelt.

You smelled like gas station slushies and the kind of freedom that only exists when you’re seventeen and think the world is stretching itself out just for you. Your black fabric interior was grayed with time, sticky with coffee spills and summer sweat of too many people crammed into a space meant for one. The same people who ripped you at the seams, the tearing of your undersides unheard through their mirthful laughter.

You groaned under the weight of my best friend, legs curled up as she ranted about boys who didn’t deserve her and dreams that felt just out of reach. You carried the ghosts of our giggles and screams, our half-sung lyrics shouted over static-filled speakers, our whispered confessions at 2 AM when the roads were empty and the only light came from flickering neon signs.

You were there the first time I drove without checking Google Maps, trusting muscle memory to take me where I needed to go. You watched me fumble for the right words when I sat in the driver’s seat next to him, my first almost-love, my first heartbreak before the heartbreak even happened. You were the only witness to the way I gripped the wheel too tight when he left, my knuckles white as if I could steer myself away from missing him.

You soaked in the silences, too. The nights I didn’t pick up the phone, the times I sat in the Macy’s parking lot alone, staring at the fog on the windshield like it held answers. The long drives to nowhere just to feel like I was moving, just to let the air rush in through the open windows and carry away whatever was pressing against my ribs.

And then, one day, I left you behind.

You stayed in a driveway that wasn’t mine anymore, watching someone else take the wheel, someone who didn’t know that your glove compartment held a crumpled movie ticket from the night I first realized I was happy, or that there was a tiny scar in the upholstery from where my friend stabbed a pen into the seat during an overdramatic retelling of a story. They wouldn’t know that I once sat in that seat, staring at my hands, trying to decide whether to take a leap or stay safe.

I wonder if you miss me. If you carry echoes of my youth in your worn-down cushions, if traces of my old dollar store perfume still linger in your faded fabric, if my laughter is still tucked into your seams. I wonder if you ever feel empty without us.

Because some days, when I pass a car that looks a little too much like you, I feel empty, too.

☕Oh how I love thee.

Just the thought of you makes me smile.

Your fragrance brings me pure glee.

I can only be apart from you for a short while.

☕ Joe, I really love you!

A cup of you that is!

Oh how I long for the sound of your brew.

I love the energy you give!

☕You keep me warm on cold nights.

Just one sip is all it takes!

If it’s a hot day I can get you iced.

I will cry real tears if my coffee machine breaks!

☕ You are called by many names.

Java, Espresso, even liquid gold.

When it comes to my coffee, I play no games.

Sipping a nice, hot cup of coffee will never get old.

☕You bring people together.

When you are around, it’s so easy to sit and chat.

I love having you near no matter the weather.

When I first wake up, I must have you stat!

☕A day without you truly makes me sad.

Some may even say they won’t survive the day without you!

Starting the day with you truly makes me glad.

If I wake up cranky, one sip of you makes me feel brand new!

☕I can bring you with me on the go.

Or I can simply enjoy you at home.

I will always love you, that much I know.

I will keep you with me no matter how far I roam.

☕You have always been there for me.

Through all my ups and downs.

Oh how I love thee coffee.

I will always keep you around.

Thank you for stepping up. As a solo mom of four daughters, I’ve relied on you more than I ever realized. You weren’t just a game in our lives—you were a co-parent, a mentor, a teacher, and a guiding force. You raised up daughters who know their worth, chase their dreams, and push forward with grit and resilience. I owe you everything.

Tonight, I walked onto the court for the last time on Senior Night. My youngest, my 5’7” defensive-minded rebounding daughter, will graduate in a few months. Her three older sisters have moved on—one 23, one 22, another 20—each charting their own course, shaped in part by the lessons you taught them.

Basketball, you stepped in where a father wasn’t. When my daughter chose you in 3rd grade, you didn’t just give her a sport—you gave her a foundation. You gave her discipline, accountability, and a team that became family. You taught her that effort matters more than talent, that setbacks build strength, and that winning isn’t about playing time or personal stats—it’s about commitment, teamwork, and heart.

Without a stable foundation, too many girls lose sight of their dreams. They shift their focus, chasing relationships instead of purpose, and before they know it, their potential slips away. I’ve seen it time and time again. But because of you, Basketball, my daughters never lost themselves. You gave them something bigger to fight for. You kept them focused, determined, and strong.

Reading the diaries of teenage girls during my 17 years of teaching showed me how often we fail our daughters. I got so much wrong. But you, Basketball—you filled in the gaps.

You taught them that success isn’t handed out—it’s earned through extra reps, unseen hours in the gym, and the resilience to push through failure. You showed them that body type doesn’t define ability, that hard work outweighs talent, and that leadership isn’t about scoring—it’s about lifting others.

A female athlete will walk through fire for someone who believes in her. Too many coaches don’t understand this, but my daughters were blessed with ones who did.

So thank you, Basketball, for believing in my girls. For bringing us to this small town in Northern Missouri, where you helped shape them into strong, independent women.

I used to think the destination mattered most—the championships, the scholarships, the accolades. But you showed me it was never about that. It was about the journey. The hours spent in the gym. The late-night car rides after tough losses. The pride in watching my daughters hustle, rebound, and instinctively pass before remembering they could score, too.

It was about watching them grow—not just into athletes, but into women who know how to fight for their place in the world. Women who understand teamwork, leadership, and resilience. Women who will take these lessons beyond the court—into college, careers, and life.

Basketball, you were more than a sport. You were a father when there wasn’t one. A guide when I fell short. And a lifelong teacher of what it means to work hard, believe in yourself, and never back down.

For that, I am forever grateful.

Your Biggest Fan,

I love my 1999 Little Blue Honda, Now it’s not the best little car and it has Many Flaws, but it’s a blessing in disguise, I was in need of a car and this car fell into my lap for $200 dollars, but it wasn’t that on my Anniversary this little car ran hot, and I was able to to get it fixed (temporarily) in the end the head gasket was blown and I got blessed and got it repaired, well I did a paint job, seat covers, dash covers and painted the wheels, but it wasn’t fixed it would need a Motor, and my job would take out $100 a week for 17 weeks, but Man it was WORTH IT, I ended up getting it back STRONGER than ever until the heat messed up, but honestly I didn’t care, the Turkster and I had a bond ( it’s my First Honda) yes it has it’s Flaw’s and No heat, but Man it’s got a Sunroof and a Aftermarket cd player, This Thursday will be 2 weeks I got a Charger, BUT I HAVE A BOND with my Honda, I feel complete with this car.I LOVE MY CAR.ITS BEEN A BLESSING IN DISGUISE

Dear Grandma’s House,

Every Christmas Eve you were my favorite place to go. I would come into the kitchen when I was a child and the smell of cookies would fill my nostrils. Then everyone I loved the most would greet me with hugs and kisses. I would go into the living room to put my present under the tree. Grandma always had a small tree with lots of presents. I would go into the kitchen for Christmas dinner and eat with my family. Then we would gather around in the living room. Grandma would pass out of the presents one by one and then we would take turns opening them. Even if grandma’s house didn’t have presents or a Christmas tree it wouldn’t matter. It is the memories attached to this place that I never want to lose. Grandma’s house is the only place in my life that has never changed. I always want to return here no matter what happens.

Within the embrace of weightless leaves bound together, I find solace,
A dream that welcomes me in the midst of my reality,
Transporting me to places imaginable yet terribly unlikely to be found.
As chaos ensues around me and emotions within me tangle among themselves,
Inviting that chaos within me,
My soul aches for easement, my mind longs for a place of calm.
Within the stories of another’s imagination, I travel,
And for a moment,
I am no longer conscious.
My soul is no longer here;
It has melded into the novels of my reading.
I become a character unbound by the laws of reality,
The wonder of such a journey is something I constantly seek,
Something that makes my heart no longer succumb to the grip of anxiety.
Oh, how I love to read.

Love comes in many
Forms, it doesn’t
Have to be sexual.
The concept of love
Is different for each and
Everyone of us.
Some love to touch,
While others love to talk,
Hear the reassuring sound
From the words that come out.
Love is expensive and expressive.
It’s addictive but don’t get it twisted,
The words “I LOVE YOU” don’t mean shit.
Love is a feeling that is revealing through
The ears, the eyes, can be touched from
Vibrations of the frequency of the voice.
Once you hear that certain noise,
Ears perk up like a dog, now you’re filled
With joy. Even the scent can bring some
Love as your brain ignites and triggers
A wonderful feeling from inside.
Love struck like lightning from deep
Inside my mind, I had to express Myself.
I’ve felt love from plenty.
I’ve showed love, also experienced
& expressed it gradually.
Without loving myself,how
Could I show it,
Love is diverse
& driven from Emotions.

I am grateful to my strength
Who has taught me to survive
In the war at home
Where little light shines, there is no such thing as “to thrive”
My feet forced to stand in the mud and cold
Knowing full well gangrene taking hold
Eyes crusted
Lungs on fire
My strength gives the order to amputate
Life is too precious to give in to desire

I am grateful to my strength
Who taught me resilience
In the darkest of times
Who taught me to appreciate the joy
As fleeting as my rhymes
I love the strength I have cultivated
When no one taught me how
The seed planted to rooted
I just didn’t know
How
deep these gentle seeds would sow
I’ll surrender now, sit back
Watch you grow

To my very first love,

I don’t know how I fell in love you. I would love to remember. Maybe when I was younger just a toddler? Or maybe when I was a preteen in small town. It feels like I have been married to you. You’re there for me when I need a friend, you’re there for me when I need a space to be lifted up. You’re there in my melancholic moments. You cherish our happy moments, even though sometimes the heartbreak is undeniable you help me find the hope that still puts the pieces together. You are the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I have seen you evolve. But whatever you were before me I never got experience. Sometimes I judge you, sometimes I go with the flow. I love every piece of you. If you left my life in any form I would go crazy. You will be my last testimony when I die. You will be introduced to many people when that happens, because with you have a gift that can heal broken hearts. I want you to be their comfort when I am gone. When that happens you will give three important people a gift. A gift that you and I share. It’s something small kind of expensive but if these people know, what you are going to give to them is what I use everyday and what made you become apart of me. They know how much I love you. They’ve seen us grow together. And each of those gifts that you will give to them you gave to me and each of them will get a custom one.
Enough of the sadness of the future.

I have you tattooed on my arm. Is it a sin that my first love is tattooed on my arm? Don’t worry it won’t be the first. I have plans of another that will continue my love for you.
You’re there when I drive, you’re there in my dreams at night, you’re next to me all the time. You’re my best ally. You never left me.

You go by many different names. Thousands maybe millions of names. You have different aspects to you I love. I met you the real you in choir. And we went into a class where we studied melodies and theory.

Every time I pick up my phone to call you, you answer. Loving you has never been easy but you’ve been apart of me. We sing and dance in the kitchen now and when we used to do it my teal bedroom. I still have artifacts of you throughout the years and you should bring some back because I honestly think it’s hot.
You’re classy, can be trashy sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade you for anything.

You have friends that help shape you that I fall in love with time after time. I see you win awards with those friends. And when you go out, you make it a good time. Even though I hate Valentine’s Day, you make every day feel like it. You can turn the most melancholic melodies into something to live for.
You’ve showed me loss, faith, forgiveness.

Thank you.

I’m about to be 24 and you’ve guided me through life.
At 24 I know I will always love you.

This is to my very first love: Music

You’re the best thing in the world. Thank you for the headphones (that I will never leave the house with) the stories through cds, the artists.

Thank you for letting me love you.

Forever & always