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.

The next day, she threatened to slit my throat in the dead of night, said my sheets would run redder than every last cunt in Orange County.

HOW COULD SHE POSSIBLY KNOW? How much her words would affect me?

Freshly thirty and newly heartbroken, the second class of our writers' workshop found me at a very midlife crisis time in my life. On Monday, things ended with the man I thought I might

I couldn’t help feeling they abandoned me in our womanhood when it wasn’t their stop.

I arrived to England in a puddle of mortal pain caused by a breakup.

The distractingly beautiful former beauty editor asks me whether I've read Yoga by Emmanuel Carrere, which I have. "Why are you only asking her? Is this a gender thing?" Our teacher feigns offense.

You can measure out your life with coffee spoons and you can measure it by the way someone starts an email.

This has been a bad date that ended with a bad blowjob.

Cincinnati radicalized me.

In the meantime I will leave the box of mac and cheese I bought to keep in my pantry, just in case I need to feed you, collect dust.

You were never going to let me, a Hindu atheist, walk down an aisle, in front of your parents to “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.” (ok, my fantasy).

Last week I arrived in Montreal with no particular address in mind.

It was August 26th and my lease started September 1st. A more intelligent being would point out that there may be a problem with

I. xaxaxaxa
I don’t consider myself esoteric or mystical, but while tidying my desk I found a little square
sticker with just the number 8 on it; I think it fell off the new t-shirt I was

At last, I texted him the truth: I have bipolar disorder. I’m in a hypomanic episode. I’m really not feeling well, I can’t stop crying. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry...