Ari Eastman

Trusting someone, anyone, means uncertainty and uncertainty to an anxious mind is terrible.

In a world of roughly seven billion people, losing this one won’t ruin you.

I sit down to write an essay and I delete every word. My brain has been a trash bag lately.

You’re still hung up on an ex or someone from your past.

Your heart is not made of glass. It doesn’t break just because it hurts. It’s not beyond repair just because it feels a little bruised.

men who left because their masculinity felt threatened while waiting in your shadow never deserved to bask in your glow.

Being an adult is wanting to run up to anyone who looks nice and saying, “Want to be my friend?” but knowing you probably shouldn’t.

To say Olivia Gatwood is a powerhouse of a poet still somehow feels like an undersell.