naniehurley
Writing isn't a whimsy, although sometimes it is. It's a job, a routine, but also a fanciful dream. It's what makes me happy, but also what makes me sad, despondent, worried. It's both accomplishment and the biggest failures. It's not everything, but it's not far off.
She was so skinny they called her a twig. Her friends were so jealous of her looks, but honestly, the cost was so high. She would love to share how toxic her relationship with food was. Days would go by without nothing other than water and a tomato or two. She was always sick, she was deeply unhappy. But she couldn't stop now; she couldn't go back to looking like she did as a kid.
It was the first of March, time for Spring. Except, Nature had other ideas. We got the first frost of the year, in fact the first frost of the whole winter. We got snow, white, pristine, enchanting, covering everything. It was a beautiful sight, maybe made even more compelling because of how unexpected it was. Not even the forecast agencies knew snow was coming.
writing since 2024 · 4 entries · 4 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Nanie showed up.
2longest streak
4days written
1.3entries / week
the words Nanie reaches for
havenhappyhousenowfrostsnowhomesafesecurecomfortablehatelovedonesmeanperiodinstance