Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Right now, a friend of mine is fighting for her life as cancer ravages her organs. She is poisoned. Her hair falls out. She is sick. But she is fighting for more sunrises, more adventures, more laughter.

    I sit in an office, uninspired. I am asked to do things because they know I'm good and smart and accommodating. My plate is full, and I am busy. But my heart is nowhere near this place. Instead, it sits in notebooks and pages and posts that cry to be woven together into something solid. Each minute that passes here is another minute that I'm not doing something I love.

    I think of my friend and realize that we are both being eaten away. While she fights, I sit with tied hands, not throwing a single punch.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.