Author: Kristin Helser
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my father’s daughter, my mother’s hair
I am my father’s daughter, but I have my mother’s hair. I have my father’s personality. I share his sense of humor and his general outlook on life, but the smaller details that make up so much of who I am come from my mom.
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baby steps
Yesterday, I told someone that this point in my life is “the most consistently happy I’ve possibly ever felt.” Today, I cried onto a slice of frozen pizza. I think this is what they mean when they say progress isn’t linear.
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the sound of silence
I didn’t want to write because I didn’t want to face what I was going through. So, instead of writing, instead of facing, since I couldn’t even begin to deal with the things that keep me up at night, I decided to stop. Stop writing, stop facing.
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equinox: part I
This is usually the time of year that I look forward to most, but this year feels different than years past. This summer was the best one I’ve ever had and for the first time in my life, I’m not ready to let it go.
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“do you miss home?”
I left my room twenty minutes ago, keys in hand, with the intention of going to the bar. My favorite place in town hosts trivia on Thursdays. I turned down the correct street but as tears filled my eyes, I decided to keep driving – driving with nowhere in mind and no urge to stop.
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reset
Up until this summer began, I would typically write multiple times in a week. It’s always been so natural, so comfortable. Then May came. Then June, and July – before I knew it I had already gone almost an entire summer without writing at all.
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familiarity fluctuates
When I got here, I thought I would miss the constant chaos I used to live in. The temperature has risen since I got here, but what changed the most is how I respond to heat. It all depends on what you’re used to, what you are familiar with.
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a bottle of bacardi & its detriment
My dad and I did everything together from spending summers playing golf, dancing to his favorite music on the way to school, and eating French toast on Saturday mornings. Everything was as perfect as it could be to a little girl but when you’re a kid, you don’t quite yet understand the concept of change.
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a mirror’s deception
growing up, I was conformed to believe that beauty is what you see in the mirror. I have spent the greater part of my life comparing myself to the conventional standard of beauty – but this “standard” is not only unrealistic, but it does not truly capture what beauty is meant to be.
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she looks different now
I’ve been grieving a part of myself that I haven’t seen in a while – not for a reason that makes much sense. There are times that I miss the wild, spontaneous girl I was. The girl who was full of crazy stories, the girl who didn’t have a care in the world.
love always, kristin 