Tag Archives: memoir
i broke my own heart…
I think I broke my own heart. Sometimes something takes 3 years. I wish I knew how human minds work. I wish I knew how our hearts work too. There’s so much science but they’ll never get it right. There’s always a new case study. Someone new doing something so differently. It was just a […]
grief and high delight…
I was eating wedding cake while terrible things were happening. Worlds were crumbling and I was swirling icing around in my mouth, taking pleasure in the things I had been keeping from myself. I always think my body should react to the universe in times like these. I should have dropped my fork and looked […]
misery loves company…
I asked him if there was anything else. Then he laid it all out on the table in front of me, all of his grief and his misery. Like he was unstacking weights from his heart and then stacking them onto mine. So I took his hand, because I always take their hand. I had […]
oh sailor (part 2)
You’ve gone missing. You’d think in days where everything is electric there would always be some way to contact someone. But that’s not the case for you. You’re still a mystery. A phone number that works half the time. But came with a cautionary warning about who might pick up. You told me about the […]
a photograph on the table…
“I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead. Let them become a photograph […]
it’ll happen again.
something old that needed to see the light… Sometimes you take what you take. Terrible loves and you walk away with nothing. Or do you? A broken heart? Yes. But a waste of time? You decide. So this is what I take from you… I wrote some of my best pieces of writing during that […]
i’m an extraordinary machine…
“You were a healer in another life.” That’s what she said to me. She was a witch of a lady. As in, I really think she was a witch. Lady bugs crawling on her arms, spiders in her hair. The kind of stuff you read in children’s novels. She also told me I was in […]
i want to be the girl with the most cake 