Twenty Six

I am Jherine.

I’ve searched for ages words that will keep you but I’ve stopped trying. Stay or go I’ll pretend I don’t mind if you don’t see me and my drabbles. That’s what’s here. Mostly fiction except when it isn’t. Angsty.

I know this should give a factual account of me, but I don’t do well with facts. Isn’t that the point?

I rearrange the same letters until they form something, but it is not me. I say I am a teacher, which at its core is true, but that is not me. I say mother and wife but that isn’t me either. I keep rolling the words over my tongue, and in my mind they sound false. Somehow we’re stuck in the void of words that don’t exist yet, trying to create something new. Here on the page they are the same puzzle with the same twenty-six pieces.


I wish I had something wise to say.

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