shewritesinink

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He's never been one for grand entrances. If he could, he'd much rather sneak in through the side entrance, say hello to a few choice friends, and grab a handful of shrimp before sneaking back out the way he came.

bury

I am on the verge of illness. I only feel like burying myself in sheets and comforters and hibernating until it passes. Hand me a shovel. Then do not disturb.

upper

When I think about the word, "upper," it's always in context with something else. Upper class. Upper echelon. Upper torso. Upper balcony. How must it feel to be unable to stand alone in the English language. Upper. I am upper.

since

It had be 3 months, 17 days, and 6 and a half hours since she'd first been admitted to the center. It had been 12 pounds and 2 ounces since she was first weighed. And it had been 2 months, 4 days, and 16 hours since she'd last been allowed to go to the bathroom by herself.

gone

There's a stillness that steals you into disquietude. That stillness when someone leaves. When they won't come back. When they're gone. Your life exhales it's own soul and your rattles like bones between overly-leaned muscles.

writing since 2010 · 7 entries · 6 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Lindsey showed up.

4longest streak

6days written

0.1entries / week

on this day 14 years ago

Lindsey wrote about bury
“I am on the verge of illness. I only feel like burying myself in sheets and comforters and hibernating until it passes. Hand me a shovel. Then do not disturb.”

the words Lindsey reaches for

upperstillnesstreehousesoulstealsdisquietudealonehoursnuclearstandingkitchenwatchingneighborscutneighborhood