S. Lily Grayson

I write as a form of therapy since I cannot afford it. Here's some stories. 

Shitting on Icebergs
a year ago
I stood there, crying — no. Sobbing, hysterically into my brother's chest. I'm 23 years old, and I stood barefoot in my front yard hyperventilating, shaking, trying to catch my breath. I could smell h...