"What I sent to the Washington Post Style Section"

There are days when I feel like I’m made of metal. On these days, I can hold the world up on one shoulder as the sky is falling and simultaneously catch a falling piece of candy for the toddler down the street. There are days when I feel like I’m made of glass. Emotions clear as raindrops as thoughts express themselves on my face, screaming obscenities if I begin to shatter. I work to heal the world and the boundless fear within me. It doesn’t matter what I’m made of, only that I can make something of myself.

"This will certify that the above work is completely original."