Lindsey Cooper
Bio
I am a southern California native who just loves writing. I find that the more I write, the better I feel. One day, I would love to write for a living... one day... :)
Stories (10/0)
We see you
Dear the nurse in the local hospital, the sweet kid bagging my groceries, and the woman delivering my Amazon packages: I see you. I see how hard you are working despite the fears, anxiety, and insanity that you are looking at every day. As we move forward in this scary world that we are in, the biggest thing we have learned is that those essential workers are just that: ESSENTIAL.
By Lindsey Cooper4 years ago in Journal
Letter
To my dearest best friend in the whole world: This letter is to remind you of your worth and how very much you are loved. From when we were nothing but silly teenage goofballs, you were my person to hold me up. My person to laugh with. My person to cry with. You were and still are a very important person in my life.
By Lindsey Cooper6 years ago in Humans
Those People in Your Life
Today is one of those days when I feel like I am lucky enough to be surrounded by the family I got to choose. Many people think that your family is your family because of the blood and DNA connecting you, but that is not the case for me. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of actual blood relatives that I love and rely on for support and understanding. However, I'm one of the lucky ones where I get to surround myself with the family I made. These additional members of my "family" are amazing people who love and support me.
By Lindsey Cooper6 years ago in Humans
Music as Medicine
I don't know when in time it happened, but at some point, people started making noises and somehow music came out of that. Expressing oneself by belting it out as loud as you can is very therapeutic. But beyond that, you find that you can live in the songs that you hear. You hear what songwriters and musical artists are going through and you become one with them. It's a very interesting place to be, for both those listening to music and those producing said music.
By Lindsey Cooper6 years ago in Beat
Gotcha (Pt. 2)
Chapter 3 I jumped as the screen door slammed shut. Apparently, I was so deep in thought I didn’t hear the door open. Hunter emerged onto the back stoop in his sock-clad feet, still in his pajamas with his head hosting the "straight out of bed" look. The boy had hair for days and when he refused to shower or comb it, it turned out to be more of a rat's nest than anything else. He had a cup of juice in his hand and was looking out past me into the yard. We were southern California kids which didn’t mean we ever saw snow, but it meant we enjoyed the beauty of it more than most.
By Lindsey Cooper6 years ago in Criminal
Gotcha
“Oh my god! He’s dead! How could this have happened?” my brain screams. And yet, she’s continuing the CPR, in and out and in and out. The artificial breath for an artificial body that is no longer inhabited. She looks up at me, eyes wide in a panic, continuing to push and push on his chest, as if he’s going to start coughing and come out of it like “GOTCHA! HAHA!” But he’s not. He’s not waking up, his face, bloodied and wounded from the collapse and from hitting his face on the trailer that holds the car. And all I can do is stand there and watch her proceed to pretend that she wants to breathe life back into that body. Pretending that her keeping the boys away is for their own good. His son, so young, only ten, fresh out of the shower stares through the window of a neighboring RV. His eyes mirror the feeling I have in my heart, the feeling of mistrust and failure to bring to light the honest truth: she killed him; and now, no one will ever know.
By Lindsey Cooper6 years ago in Criminal