Voice Like a Hyacinth

by Mallory Pearson

It was seductive to hover in someone else’s shadow and allow myself to remain obscured, especially if it was an outline I adored.

You need to be capable of selling yourself to someone who doesn’t give a shit about you. And the only way you’re going to accomplish that is by knowing what you stand for and how to make someone else believe in it, too.”

That’s the nature of art, Jo. You make it, and then you lose control. Interpretation is beyond your boundaries. In some ways, it’s an awful idea to come to terms with, and in others, it’s remarkably freeing.

Some part of me would always crawl toward the idea of “better.”

Where was the delineation between wasted and treasured? Wasn’t time spent with the people you loved worth it enough?