My recent ex was extra, but in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Sure, she had all the traits of a malignant narcissist but so does almost everyone I know.

You HAVE TO MOVE!

I recently started my third year of university. In my first year, I lived in the dorms and got acquainted with the people who just so happened to be experiencing their Firsts at the same

All I have every week is nothing but free time but I won’t tell the twenty-one-year-old that.

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

I rode four buses from the burbs to the streets of P Town. A kid who is as rebellious as his parents allowed him to be. I am filled with grunge and a hunger for falafel. A youth shaking with an indie

As if he were some seasonal pollen that gets stuck up my nose and reminds me what time it is, every year at the beginning of spring it all flashes back and I’m right there again in that sticky

The memories form a bridge, but the boards are loose. If I step in the wrong place, my ankle twists. I fall. And then everything comes crashing down.

Drew once wrote a poem about bridges. He gave

- 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.