Before You Know It Something’s Over by Rebecca Tillett

"My father died on November 14th, 1995, when I was 14. Every day since the day he died I am one day farther away from him than I was before. This is the truest thing about me. It is the most important and worst thing to ever happen to me. It is me. My father died when I was 14. I will tell people this forever. It is the truest thing about me. I was 14 when he died. My father. I was 14. I am what I have lost." —Marie Lyn Bernard

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188//365 by Rebecca Tillett

We do a lot of sitting in silence these days, watching, touching, grazing, gazing into each other, being. Just being. We've spent so many years talking. So many long years. But we'd never touched each other's skin, felt the ways the shape of our faces changed in the palms of our hands when we smiled. Or laughed. Or kissed.

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"The Erotic Photos of Rebecca Tillett" by Rebecca Tillett

The effect of 'alienating' is amplified when these naked women populate the interior of an everyday kitchen or a bathroom, seemingly unsuitable places to take them. There is always an element that creates imbalance in these photos, which pushes the eye to be hung on a detail, provocative, ironic, unsettling, depending on the choice of the artist, or simply preparing the viewer.

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134//365 by Rebecca Tillett

I wish I could just come home and make everything alright for you. I wish I wouldn't regret not taking a chance and wonder for years ahead if I did that. I wish we were better for each other. I wish this journey I've taken to get some questions answered for myself wasn't hurting you so deeply in the process. I wish I'd realized how much you loved me when we were together. I wished I'd felt it.

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127//365 by Rebecca Tillett

Sometimes you have to follow your stupid fucking heart even when it feels like it's dragging you through the mud, through the darkest depths of Hell with no promise of emerging, when it completely betrays you and everything you've ever known or believed to be true about your life now and in the days to come.

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84//365 by Rebecca Tillett

I see you on the horizon, 
always just beyond reach
15 years and 1
2 years and 8
Medium term
My life is seasons of you
and seasons without. 
Where have you been, 
Where did you go, 
I wanna rest my palms on your ribs
I wanna feel your chest pressed up against my back
I've survived this dust bowl
Your ocean colliding with my shores
Warmed contently by a rolling fog
Obscuring everything but each other

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70//365 by Rebecca Tillett

The unsurprising consequences of my recent huge life decisions collided with me this weekend and the haunting emotion that accompanied the encounter first drained me of self-assurance then filled me with fear and doubt. And sadness. I'm a fairly smart woman but sometimes I can't predict how these things will affect me until they do. And then I drown in it because I never anticipated swimming.

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