What It Means to be Human

I wrote this last night after struggling all day to come up with a flash fiction piece. I’m not sure why I’ve been having so much trouble with fiction lately. Maybe it’s because I’m totally focused on finishing my novel? Either way, poetry has been keeping me consistent with my writing goals all year, and I’m very thankful for that.

I was nervous about what would happen to my writing after graduating last year. I had no idea how I’d be able to stay consistent. I wrote eighty pages in a year for my thesis. I figured I’d be able to do so much more now that I had so much time. Of course, the idea of having so much time is a myth when it comes to getting older.

I’m desperately holding onto all my lessons and conversations with professors to make sure I never lose anything I learned during my two years in the Queens College MFA program. I hope to go back to all my work at the end of the year and compare it to what I was doing in school to see how far I’ve come. I also hope to focus more on fiction, but for now, I hope you enjoy this poem.

What It Means to be Human

Being human means
you’re aware
of who you are and how
others see you while you’re trying
to do better than the day before,
which is why
the day after is always
harder to live up to,
but, nevertheless, trying —
regardless of the outcome.



There’s less than one week left for you all to submit your work for the 2018 Winter Issue of Come and Go Literary. The stories and poems I’ve accepted so far all have themes of social justice and political activism.

If you’re interested in submitting your own work and you feel it fits these themes well, see my submission guidelines for more details. 9/30 is the deadline, so don’t wait.


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