If you were chopping up hookers or eating runaways, you’d try to look normal.
If you own a bar on your own, you’re a player; if you own it with your beloved twin sister, you’re— Irish. Go on.
If I had a dick, I would fuck this peanut butter,
I would never steer a fellow sufferer from the relief of a blackout.
I rolled my eyes and set my head in my hands, as if it was too much for me, and it almost was.
I rent a small brick bungalow within a loop of other small brick bungalows, all of which squat on a massive bluff overlooking the former stockyards of Kansas City. Kansas City, Missouri, not Kansas Ci...
I paced a bit, tried to remember how to breathe right, how to calm my skin. But it blared at me. Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.
I noticed Stucks was wearing—maybe ironically, possibly not—a T-shirt that read Save Gas, Fart in a Jar.
I never knew I was capable of being ridiculous over a man. It's a relief.
I must do better at adoring him like I used to. Nick responds to adoration. I just wish it felt more equal. My brain is so busy with Nick thoughts, it's a swarm inside my head: Nicknicknicknicknick! A...
I mean I would rather be a librarian but I worry about the job security, books may be temporary dicks are forever.
I don’t think my father’s issue was with my mother in particular. He just didn’t like women. He thought they were stupid, inconsequential, irritating. That dumb bitch. It was his favorite phrase for a...
I don’t know that anything would be any good anywhere, so it’s hard to gauge if this is better or worse, you know what I mean? Like: This place is miserable and I want to die, but I can’t think of any...
I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there—hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen
I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there—hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen within my stunted, childish body—a Libby that’s telling me to get up, do something, grow up, m...
His nametag said Jose. I tried to see if he was missing any fingers. Mexicans don’t get cushy box jobs unless they’re owed. That’s the way plants down here work: The Mexicans get the shittiest, most d...
He never had the talent, just the hard wish.
He has given me exactly ten Fritos and then secreted away the bag. He doesn’t like the smell; it offends him, he says, but what he really doesn’t like is my weight.
He Giving Treed me out of existence.
Go sat quietly, the orange of the streetlight creating a rock-star halo around her profile. This is going to be a real test for you, Nick, she murmured, not looking at me. You’ve always had trouble wi...