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During my last couple of years in Spain, things—how shall we say?—spun out of control. It was like getting tossed by one of those huge ferocious Northern Californian waves that tumbles you, holds

I want you to see me ignoring you.

or because I’d seen him unwrap the extra large condom and suddenly longed, anxiously and fatuously like a girl wanting her stuffed animal, for my first boyfriend who weighed less than me

That night she found me on Facebook.

In the black screen, I watched M undress me slowly.

I wanted to cry.

Skaters are like theater kids with better outfits.

            But by then I was dry heaving on some dark back road.

Charley and I met freshman year of college. She was the blonde one, whereas I was not. I was never the blonde one. We went to college on a big hill, warm in the summer, warm in the winter. We both

Bob Dylan concert. Of course, Bob Dylan.

The next day, she threatened to slit my throat in the dead of night, said my sheets would run redder than every last cunt in Orange County.

I arrived to England in a puddle of mortal pain caused by a breakup.

You can measure out your life with coffee spoons and you can measure it by the way someone starts an email.

You were never going to let me, a Hindu atheist, walk down an aisle, in front of your parents to “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.” (ok, my fantasy).

I. xaxaxaxa
I don’t consider myself esoteric or mystical, but while tidying my desk I found a little square
sticker with just the number 8 on it; I think it fell off the new t-shirt I was

You HAVE TO MOVE!

In Morocco, a long time ago, I was orphaned.

- Her: 7 hours, 13 minutes

- Me: 24 minutes

One grotesque morning, our friend Dani—frequent companion in cocaine-fueled escapades—stumbled from the spare room, blacked-out, around sunrise.

  At six years old, I wanted to be a boy. I cut my hair short. I wore blue shorts. I ran around with my shirt off. I threw oranges at my sister and her friends.

On the television, Paul Hollywood is doling out handshakes - I'd settle for eye contact from my husband-

We landed on Court TV but didn’t watch it. We talked for five hours.

I suggested we arm wrestle as I did with every boy. I was a pick me and for my spreadsheet.

It is the night before I will meet my future ex wife. Neither of the mirrors are skinny.

It was summer heat 
And the breath of living someone else’s life 

Sisters remain sisters even when one is going through nuclear-grade poisoning and the other is directing a DIY haircut through a phone screen.