I remember the first time I heard her voice on one of our home videos after she died. […]
I always strive to feel balanced because asking for happiness seems like a trap. I have to keep the protection up, just like getting my nails done once a fortnight, if they aren’t covered in five layers of powder and gel they’ll be weak and brittle.
In Chicago, my Aries moon shows
I wake up to my annoying iPhone alarm clock and grunt. There is a constant flow of snow […]
Unlike some of the women in my life, I have never felt that deep primal yearning to be […]
And when he left, he blended in with the rest. And I changed my sheets and cried in the shower, while trying to scrub off what was left of our friendship.
Not even on weekends. Not even when I’m hungover. I’ll wake up at 6, make some eggs, and take a shower to massage my head with shampoo.
It’s time to play my own game. A game of truth and dare.
“One day a light bulb went off in my head (or possibly my nether regions) wasn’t I also deriving pleasure from this type of foreplay and sex? Weren’t my orgasms suddenly and brilliantly intensified and genuine?”
I’m not sure if the love I always dreamt of was ever present in any of the relationships I’ve had in my lifetime.