The Memoirist
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The Memoirist

To Heal, I Had to Let Loneliness In

We can only pretend for so long

Photo by Zulian Firmansyah on Unsplash


Two-bedroom, basement apartment in a building where I knew he wouldn’t find me. He never liked the city, but I did. Safe because the street signs here were blue instead of green; safe because the gunshots meant that he wouldn’t even think about coming here to look for me. He was afraid of the city bus.




We publish memoirs, personal essays, and fictional memoir. Creative stories unpacked from the nostalgic hope chests of our lives.

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Hope Rising

Hope Rising

Divorced, biracial woman in my early 20’s | Editor for Out of the Woods | I write to heal myself and others | Support me at

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