letterweave

A few months ago, I cried on my kitchen floor because my soup boiled over. Like—boiled. That’s it. That was the crime. A harmless bubble too excited to stay in its pot, and there I was, clinging to the stove…

I almost quit everything over a soggy sandwich. I wish I was joking. But there I was — standing in my kitchen at 11:42 p.m., holding what was supposed to be dinner-slash-late-night-coping-fuel, only to find the bread soaked, the cheese…

I was halfway through crying into a lukewarm iced coffee when I realized something kind of terrifying. It wasn’t the coffee (though, let’s be real, watery caffeine is a personal betrayal). It was the fact that I had no idea…

It started with a granola bar. Not even a good one—like, stale, off-brand, probably-sat-in-my-purse-since-last-winter kind of granola bar. But there I was, sobbing over it on my bathroom floor like it held the secrets of the universe. I wish I…

The Time I Ugly Cried Over an Email I once burst into tears over an email. Not a breakup email. Not even a “you’ve been fired” email. It was a “Sorry, we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates” email.…

The Time I Melted Down Over a Dirty Spoon There was this one Tuesday—gray sky, PMS fog, WiFi acting like it paid rent but did nothing—and I straight-up sobbed over a spoon. Not a fancy one. Just a slightly-stained cereal…

I almost gave up over a coffee cup.Not even a cute one. It was cracked, chipped on the rim, and had a stain from that one time I tried to clean it with turmeric and ambition. I stared at that…

The Day I Ate Cold Pizza on the Floor and Called It Healing A few years ago, I found myself sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, eating a slice of cold pizza at 10 a.m., wearing a hoodie that hadn’t…

Let me tell you a little secret: I once cried because I spilled coffee on my “I have my life together” outfit—five minutes before a Zoom call. The call, by the way, was with someone who genuinely believed I was…

Let’s get this out of the way: if I could send a letter back to the younger version of myself — the one who cried over not getting enough likes on a filtered selfie — I wouldn’t write some enlightened…