The depression soon followed like a familiar friend who I had hoped to leave behind.

Video after video, she became a fan in front of the camera, leaving her future self a playlist of nostalgia.

Could it really be true that Betsey actually let him put his fingers inside her? In both holes, as they reported? How could he do that to Betsey with the Guess jeans, glossy hair, and big boobs?

Our social circles had overlapped for more than a decade. To everyone here, I was first an old acquaintance, a fixed figure of their long past. Not the person I was today.

I feel a change coming on. I want to travel more. I want to visit Vietnam, and Transylvania; I want to watch the sun go down along the Nile.

Murray would be my only American-born super.  He was big and fat and had a very productive-sounding cough and he always dressed in the same dirty white T-shirt and the same baggy corduroy pants whenever I saw him—summer, winter, spring and fall. 

There is a rooster tail of snow and ice behind it, and the roar of the engine enters my chest before he reaches me.

Käärijä doesn’t win Eurovision. We both know this and don’t. Instead, the album brings us to a body broken and weary. Käärijä is willing to do anything, joints displacing themselves to the beat.

"My wife and I are looking for a third partner. I was thinking, maybe…" — here he gave a small cough, his speech turning slurred and hard to follow.

Every time I write it comes out far too dramatic. Everything feels so insidious right now. Everything feels so precarious right now. Everything has fallen into place. 

Then, my ex decided that they had to move to New York to build community around doing shrooms, eating olives, and working for NYC Health

I understand.

Really, I do. I've heard enough compliments to recognize the attraction I carry behind me. I can see why you needed to reach out and grab hold, like a mirage that might disappear as I

Sometimes, I find myself fantasizing, in a dissociative state where Everything Everywhere All at Once is not just a movie but a real possibility

In winter, a year and a half ago, a patrol car escorted me to a shelter. I had just begun processing the dissolution of a ten-year relationship when I found myself unhoused. After my first night in the shelter, I woke to a text from my ex-girlfriend: you’ll thank me one day.

“Björk.”

“That explains it.”

I hadn’t written a line of prose in years. I was a corporate machine running on fumes, yet this girl in a G-string was playing the oracle.

Loving Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder instructs you to maintain boundaries

“We should be making deals,” Chloe said.

“Healthy competition,” I said.

“I don’t have any Twitter followers,” I said

Tara and I were impressed by the Goth subculture Goth Ryan and Tara’s boyfriend took part in not just because of the black strappy clothes, black fingernails, and heavy eye makeup (which we immediately began imitating), but also their directness and openness about feelings of sadness and rottenness. 

One day we were instructed to pair up for a meditation.  Our mats were side by side

The nineteen year olds in the grocery section who tell me I look like Wednesday are yelling into their walkie talkies. 

I didn’t want anyone else’s cynicism rubbing off on me and diminishing the essences’ effects. I knew, I had to believe.

Some spit clogged in my hair and snot dripped down to my mouth.

The official San Francisco LESBIAN GAY BISEXUAL TRANSGENDER PRIDE parade was the social highlight of our year.

Every morning I’d wake up, walk to Target and take a hangover dump in their nice clean bathroom