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Recollections of My Nonexistence by
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Jen R.
is on page 58 of 244
How do you walk right up to someone with an open heart and open arms amid decades of survival-by-evasion? All this menace made it difficult to stop and trust long enough to connect, but it made it difficult to keep moving too, and it seemed sometimes as though it was all meant to wall me up alone at home like a person prematurely in her coffin.
— Mar 10, 2026 04:23AM
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Jen R.
is on page 58 of 244
We often say silenced, which presumes someone attempted to speak [but] it wasn’t a silencing because no speech was stopped; it never started, or it had been stopped so far back I don't remember how it happened. … it didn't occur to me that I had the authority to assert myself thus or that they had any obligation or inclination to respect my assertions, or that my words would do anything but make things worse.
— Mar 10, 2026 04:19AM
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Jen R.
is on page 58 of 244
There are absences so profound that even knowledge of their absence is absent; there are things missing even from our lists of the missing.
— Mar 10, 2026 04:14AM
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Jen R.
is on page 36 of 244
More than anything I wanted transformation not of my nature but of my condition. I didn't have much of a vision of where I wanted to go, but I knew I wanted to distance myself from where I had come from. Perhaps that was not so much a matter of craving as its opposite, aversion and escape…
— Mar 08, 2026 03:07PM
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Jen R.
is on page 24 of 244
These elders were not in a hurry; they were country people. They kept an eye on passersby, greeting the people they knew, sometimes calling out to a child who seemed out of line to them. It was they who taught me that a conversation even between strangers could be a gift and a sport of sorts, a chance for warmth, banter, blessings, humor, that spoken words could be a little fire at which you warmed yourself.
— Mar 08, 2026 02:22PM
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