- Her: 7 hours, 13 minutes

- Me: 24 minutes

Dear Jane,

I sometimes wear an old kimono I bought out of a by-the-pound box in a shop basement in Chicago and I listened to a podcast today about how I shouldn’t wear kimonos if I’m not Japanese

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

It is Winter again. I am not myself.

Cherry nausea tablets dissolve under my tongue every morning, ostensibly tricking my mind from dry-heaving, and sleeping requires triple the dosage of Trazodone

One of the most profound aesthetic experiences of my life involved falling asleep in an armchair in the middle of the afternoon while reading The Fairie Queene. I did not dream of Britomart and Sir

I wanted to see if I could pass as someone who belongs.

Alright, Mariely, Jelly Belly.  Pretend you are a person who has friends. You can send this text message. It’s fine. They don’t know you

Do not follow your child too closely. Hovering makes it look like something might go wrong, which of course it might, but the point of these events is to pretend it won’t. Maintain a five-foot buffer

  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.

 Peter does not center himself as an influencer-writer-genius producing work so insular few can relate. Instead, he masterfully turns the tables.

“He copied and pasted your text and sent it to me.” I rephrased it.

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

“If you desire something,” she said, “ask for it with honesty and clear communication. Then accept the answer you receive, whatever it may be.”

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

We cracked the Nyquil bottle’s safety seals and interlaced our arms like two pirate bridesmaids as we counted down our chugging

The freedom is almost overwhelming.

You were compiling something and the itch for alcohol had blocked all business until you’d gotten up, checked the stove, and left.

Telling my wife was hard. Telling my best friend was going to be hard. Telling my family was going to be hard. But leaving was right. And I was raised to do hard things that were right.

You are only who you are to him. Waitresses treat you weird and ask questions..

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.

I was a woman obsessed, before and after the overdose.

It still bugs me that I never understood why she’d seen Hadestown eleven times (our first date was her twelfth).

The thing about being a lesbian in New York City is that on the third Thursday of any given month you’ll have to stand in a hot Brooklyn bar that is absolutely teeming with gay people. At least four