It’s 3am and it’s the third 3am I’ve seen this week. My child is snoring next to me and I hope the sting of perceived failures emanating from my solar plexus isn’t penetrating his dreams. I haven’t washed my hair since I took out my braids 5 days ago. The stench of product buildup is not enough for me to care about how I look. And my neighbor was surpri…
© 2024 Whitney McGuire
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