Our Darling, Kay
What do you do when you discover written words that excite you, cause you to reflect, and make you say aloud, “I get what she’s saying here. I identify. I’ve been there. I’m not alone in this crazy world.”
After The Election / Photo by Ronda L.
—–Confession: The election results made me physically and emotionally ill.
I finally had to go to bed, but at 6:00 AM, I ran to the television and saw this:
—We chose a winner!
My Inner Chick’s team read and savored 74 submissions for our 2nd annual writing contest.
We valued and appreciated your raw words, honesty, authenticity, pain, and sharing your real-life, unbelievable, amazing stories with us.
What an honor to read all of them.
In particular, one story by Reut Amit, He Never Hit Me, caused us to rise up from our seats and yell:
“That’s the one!”
Without further ado, here it is.
Image by Rebel Society/BigStock Sad/Scared
~I was one of the few girls in middle school who developed breasts way too early. Large breasts. Woman breasts. Breasts that boys gawked at, pointed to, and giggled about.
Mercy ROCKS my world.
( This short observation was written by my dynamic, amazing, talented pen-pal, Mercy Adhiambo. She sends me her personal journals with several remarkable stories about her adventures in journalism, life, love, and insights about Kenya. I particularly appreciated and loved this one! She was about 20 years old when she wrote it.)
I did frame this from The New Yorker because they spelled “DEAR” wrong and it made me feel better about myself!
Throughout the years, I’ve heard, unbelievably, that several writers appreciate rejection letters. Some of these individuals wall-paper their walls with these correspondences. Others pin the, “we regret to inform you’s” to their bulletin boards as reminders to Keep on Truckin.’