Wings

My name is Holly, I'm the human embodiment of a perpetually buffering video. I have perfected the art of looking deeply interested in the architecture of a room while silently calculating the quickest escape route . My superpower isn't flight or invisibility; it's conserving my social battery, which starts every day at a generous 8% and depletes entirely if I accidentally make eye contact with a neighbor.

Maybe I'm not who I said I was

There is a very specific, cold survival instinct that kicks in the second you realize you’ve gambled on a fart and lost. It starts with a wide-eyed stare at nothing in particular, as if you’re trying to hear a secret message from your own butthole, followed by a high-stakes walk where your knees are glued together. You become a master of stealth, trying to evaporate into the background while your internal monologue screams in caps lock.

When you died, I refused to talk about you, hoping to push off the pain by pretending you were just in your room, scrolling through your tablet or watching a movie. I didn't want to believe it, I wanted to ignore reality. Six months have passed, but I still can't get through a day without thinking of you. The realization hits me suddenly - 'Daddy is dead' - and it shatters me every time. Losing you has changed me; I see the world for what it is now. Everything feels temporary, and I feel like a shell of my former self. I'm struggling to navigate this new world without you. I feel like I've been on autopilot for several months now. The pain of losing you is like nothing I've ever felt. I miss you, Daddy, until we meet again.

Roots

I grew up in a Christian household and was forced to go to church, which I hated. All my life, I've been told there's a God and that He's the creator of this life. For a long time, I wasn't sure I believed it, thinking it was something I had to accept whether I wanted to or not. I struggled with it, questioning why God, if in control, would allow so much suffering and wouldn't stop it or fix it. I didn't know what to believe. I've been praying since I was 16, every night. It wasn't until I was older that I started to acknowledge a higher being. I believe in God, but not the traditional God spoken of in the Bible. When I picture God, I picture a set of hands - hands keep you warm, they comfort you, and they create beautiful art. When I pray, I feel those hands, showing me forgiveness in anger and humor in sadness. I respect all religions and don't judge those who don't believe; we all have our own journey. Last year, I lost a lot -I lost my father, he was my best friend. Losing Dad broke me, and now I see the world differently, there's a huge void in my heart. In those moments that I feel scared, I pray and I feel those hands hold me again and remind me that I still have a lot to be grateful for. My babies are warm and safe in their beds tonight, a privilege not everyone gets. I have to believe in something greater, in a reason for the pain. I have to believe that I'll see daddy again, not in this life..but the next one. I have to believe that death isn't the end.

Wish I could get past it