It was one of those moments where you saved me, you made me laugh at just the right time.
It was kind of romantic. Catastrophically romantic.
It was enough to be near her and hear her talk, it didn't always matter what she was saying. It should have, but it didn't.
It was a gross, tasteless thing to say – my brain had been burping up such inappropriate thoughts at inopportune moments. Mental gas I couldn’t control. Like, I’d started internally singing the lyrics...
It took this awful situation for us to realize it. Nick and I fit together. I am a little too much, and he is a little too little. I am a thorn bush, bristling from the overattention of my parents, an...
It really is true. It took this awful situation for us to realize it. Nick and I fit together. I am a little too much, and he is a little too little. I am a thornbush, bristling from the overattention...
Insomniacs are exquisitely grateful for people to recognize their weariness.
In truth, I wanted her to read my mind so I didn’t have to stoop to the womanly art of articulation. I was sometimes as guilty of playing the figure-me-out game as Amy was.
In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.
I worry for a second that she wants to set us up: I am not interested in being set up. I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love-jackal. I'm too self-conscious otherwise. I...
I worry I am coming perilously close to violating both of those promises. But still. It is our third wedding anniversary and I am alone in our apartment, my face all mask-tight from tears because, wel...
I wonder what it feels like to be a woman whose Christmas present must be bought in cash. Liberating.
I was lying in bed thinking about killing myself, a hobby of mine. Indulgent afternoon daydreaming: A shotgun, my mouth, a bang and my head jerking once, twice, blood on the wall. Spatter, splatter.
I took a cue from your beloved Mark Twain: What ought to be done to the man who invented the celebrating of anniversaries? Mere killing would be too light.
I thought we would be the most perfect union: the happiest couple around. Not that love is a competition. But I don’t understand the point of being together if you’re not the happiest.
I sat in a room the color of egg yolk for two hours while the officer got my story down. The whole time I was thinking about Natalie going to autopsy, and how I would like to sneak in and put a fresh...
I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts.
I never knew I was capable of being ridiculous over a man. It's a relief.
I might as well have said dot dot dot aloud.
I mean, doesn’t it seem like it could have been two people? Somehow? Michelle’s murder was just—Your mom and Debby were like, uh, hunted down almost. But Michelle dies in her bed, covers pulled up. Th...