top of page

Sad Girl Diaries
Search


Resilience | Lia Smith-Redmann
for my cousin Nadia.  Peeled back as a baby to reveal her delicate insides – heart laid bare. Someone wished upon her like a flower and...
Sep 24, 20241 min read


The Pantheon of Dead Ex-boyfriends | Julie Benesh
South of close relatives, north of the minor arcana of pre-deceased coworkers, neighbors, et cetera, subset of the mammoth  ship of...
Sep 21, 20241 min read


Supermarket Baby | Juliet Simon
The biggest betrayal I ever met I handled like an infant at the supermarket wailing down aisles, bawling tears of denial tearing down...
Sep 15, 20241 min read


child | Katie Rotella
the windows of the train are cloudy: scratches and water stains blur the surface—it’s just like watching an old television, except there...
Sep 9, 20241 min read


In Line at Eden, 1989 | Adriana Stimola | 1st Place Poetry Contest Winner
I remember buying basil with my mother. At the counter I swam in time too small for weekday nets to catch— where it’s wrists wearing...
Aug 15, 20241 min read


As If Deep Rest Were a Lottery Ticket | Ellen Skilton | 2nd Place Poetry Contest Winner
When she taught me to swim, she said, only breathe if you absolutely have to — as if oxygen was not needed to live. I often feel like a...
Aug 15, 20241 min read


My Sister’s Life Sinks on the Day of the Titanic’s Anniversary | Cynthia Pratt | 3rd Place Poetry Contest Winner
The hue of her wooden frame turned cerulean after her husband left. Blue now covers the heart’s jagged rock limbs. She becomes a skiff...
Aug 15, 20241 min read


My Girlfriend and I Come From a Small Town | Bellamy Rump
A sigh creates St. Helens’ ash swallowing weeks old milk and grandpa’s leather recliner into the heart of a midwest false-spring...
Aug 4, 20241 min read


Cleolynne | Lee Varon
You were God’s messenger—ethereal creation, the first lesbian I knew besides Shelly Guy, who had a butterfly tattooed on her wrist at a...
Aug 1, 20241 min read


Bedside | Miree Antar
A common nook— A girl and her bed and her pillows, Where shrines collect at the bottom of the bed, Piled-up books—hundreds of them. But...
Jul 26, 20241 min read


The Girl Who Pitied Herself | Margaret D. Stetz
into her hair thick white library paste smeared into her face daddy long-legs shaken into her fist snot-coated tissues shoved and...
Jul 17, 20241 min read


My Younger Self My Wound | Izze Goldberg
After Natalie Diaz She was calling for me in the night-light-free bedroom the one she spends most of her time in. When they came to her...
Jul 8, 20242 min read
bottom of page