I want you to see me ignoring you.

My last few nights at Will’s house were strained but also pleasant. I consciously wanted to love him. And I did, in a way, but I was drifting.

Punishments:

—deprivation of recreation

—bread and water diet

—48-hour dungeon stays; no bed, no food, no lights

This was my chance! I moved to the seat in front of her and we lay across our seats and laughed together like a yin-yang necklace coming back together.

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

Alex burrowed into my cold, bright grave, nestled in tight.

That night she found me on Facebook.

The written word, music, visual arts. These, if done well, are the unconscious sneaking past the curtain. Using language to self-implode Logic. Some real Matrix shit.

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

I wanted to cry.

Midway through our relationship, he had told me that whenever we had sex, he needed to think of other girls in order to stay hard. He told me everyone did it

One night Evan and I got so drunk on grape liquor that we started making out in the shower

I consider asking Richard if he’ll piss on my book but I’m still too shy.

Played a socialite who leaves her abusive husband to run off with an outlaw, themes
 

Skaters are like theater kids with better outfits.

A Little Death

An aggressive Doberman knocked Cindy up weeks later.

Affection follows episodes of abuse

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

Our teacher is running late, the distractingly beautiful former beauty editor emailed our group. This confirmed my suspicion that she and my teacher had a separate text thread going. She was, after

"How deep do you want to go?" the facilitator asked as I knelt before a candlelit altar. It was reckless to choose a depth in an ocean I’d never seen, but I aimed for the bottom. "Very deep," I said—a

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

It's the fourth week out of five of our Zoom writers' workshop, and I've finally gotten used to the rhythm of my Wednesday nights. There's my teacher, in New York City, the sweet nerdy man from

Bob Dylan concert. Of course, Bob Dylan.

I return from a trip to Florida over the long weekend with my high school friends to my writers' workshop. We were in Miami to celebrate our collective 30th birthdays, and hit all my favorite things

I add “Ripple” to the playlist and cry, imagine her cradling my broken body the same way I held her own: like it was the world’s rarest treasure. Like I’d never let go.