Writing is like unraveling a knot. It always seems to turn out that the twistiest jumbles are easiest to pick apart, while the simplest snarls morph into a recursion of stuck-fast loops in loops. To ... [+]
I was sixteen years old the first time a man told me that I was pretty enough to be a server.
I was just a host, but a good one. One of the best, which isn't even bragging, because being a host
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My hair started falling out about three weeks into treatment. I expected clumps (for the doctors, websites, and survivors said, "expect clumps"), and I imagined my hair falling out in neatly packaged ... [+]
The cobblestone streets press unevenly onto the soles of feet. And despite the sleepiness that is meant to be felt at this hour, washed over and induced by the swiftness of stars wiped across the sky ... [+]
A large, green pot rested on the stove, with heat rising off and warming my nose as I took in a deep breath of steam and starch. Potatoes – a five-pound bag of plain white potatoes turned into the ... [+]
To my unborn child,
Yearning to hold you in my arms, I think about what you will look like. Will your eyes resemble mine or your fathers'? Will you smile from ear to ear or sheepishly as you
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My dad is as forgetful with English as I am with fish. For me, a carp, one beta fish, five goldfish, and an entire school of tetras – some pets, some not. For him, the alphabet soup of gramma ... [+]
The full moon hung suspended in the air like a beacon of hope, that failed to shine in the darkest hour. The vast sky was pregnated with pinpricks of lights as the twinkling of burned-out stars still ... [+]
Yesterday it was sixty degrees outside, so I took my bike out for the first time all winter. I biked across the river to return a pair of jeans I'd bought online the week earlier; it turns out that ... [+]
A week before he told me he'd probably fuck other people over the summer, I almost said I loved him — more accurately, I loved his room.
We were lying in Mateo's bed, the twin-sized one all
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I'm a hypochondriac.
Although wouldn't it be just like a hypochondriac to try and diagnose themselves as a hypochondriac? A medical and philosophical conundrum, to say the least.
My dread of
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2016.
I am a new patient at a partial hospitalization program in Rancho Cucamonga, California. I didn't want to come here; for the duration of my time in this program I'll be living alone in an
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"Please," the woman said. "Oh, God, someone, please help me."
Her voice was harsh and broke off in places like a staticky, skipping record. I stuffed my left earbud in to drown her out. I'd
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I thought it was a crab apple tree the first year we lived in our house. We let it spill its fruit onto the ground below. The following summer, it sprouted its little green spheres again and I watched ... [+]
