To be raw is to be vulnerable and undisguised.
by Daniel Egitto
Last drips of sun are melting themselves against the limbs of stripping trees. Land—hollowed out at some point to the efforts of some unknown groundskeeper. Mower-truncated stabs of grass poking up at empty skies. Blower-pushed leaves all forced out away of the clearing as if to make us forget.
We don’t, of course. It’s never really that simple.
My achievements defined me. The way I appeared to others was a hard front, trying to be as infallible and put together as possible. All of high school I didn’t have an intimate relationship with anyone, not even some of my closest friends, because I only let people see who I was when I had to perform. It wasn’t until now, when I started to get into an intimate relationship with you that I realized I am lacking something.
The Spectrum Series: Edition 1
When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence. -- Ansel Adams
Telling our stories one picture at a time. Take a look at our rawest moments here.
Love is the Point
by Betsy Broaddus
We avoid labels and say things are “chill” or “casual” because we are so afraid. We are so afraid of heartache. Of caring too much. Being vulnerable. We want to protect ourselves. After seeing what happened to my sister, I do understand why this is such a widespread practice. There is no such thing as love without the anticipation of loss, but there is also no such thing as vitality in life without love.
Tallulah Year Five
by Sophia ParviziWayne
Life has moved on from October 16th 2012 but I can’t. Friends aren’t meant to die when you’re fifteen Tallulah. You’re not meant to commemorate a fifth year anniversary of your best friend’s death when you’re twenty years old.
I am my Disorder
by Sierra Winters
I am my disorder, and my disorder is the only part of me that is allowed to be imperfect. When my whole life is dedicated to maintaining perfect grades, being the perfect friend, embodying the perfect humanitarian, I long for justified imperfection because that is the only evidence that I am human.
by Jill Jones
you said you only used a knife once. you preferred your fingernails because it was more organic i guess and you didn't have to worry so much about cutting too deep. i knew that you'd break your skin just so you could exhale and you could breathe, and then you'd feel you were suffocating and do it all over again.
Elegy of the Lying Woods
by Jacob Cannon
“Little dark sheep, how art thee? Can’t thou hear? Can’t thou see? Little dark sheep, do tell me Tale of the Hillbilly’s Elegy.”
You Breathe and You Continue
I sat in the bathroom, shaking, staring at my Google search: “define rape”. I read the definition. I looked up at the stall door: “Have you or someone you know been sexually assaulted?”. I looked down. I sobbed. I gritted my teeth. Replayed and replayed. Over and over. Every second.
I have a friend I never have to apologize to – a person who accepts my reality.
by Sophie Laettner // in collaboration with Cantos
“I am a part of all that I have met” .