She missed his nothing. It had felt like something.
Maybe misery begins everywhere.
It depressed me to think that I might have been looking at another person but seeing only myself.
You will never be missing to yourself and all you can do is delay, delay, delay and the delaying must be good enough for you and you must find a way to be fine with the delay because it is your whole...
Speaking felt impossible, as contained and enclosed as she was, a longing that went on a loop, a longing for nothing at all.
Though I knew I had the potential to do this locked in me like a poisonous pet snake, I knew I didn't have the part of a person you must have to turn that potential kinetic, to be the kind of person w...
I needed nothing and was needed nowhere. I almost doubted I was alive.
Every few minutes or so I would remember the look from the man who had wanted fifty cents, and I'd look at that framed memory hanging in myself and it meant I was here, back in this sick city, but in...
Someone said once that they'd never heard of a crime they couldn't imagine committing, and I realized then that if I had a daughter and she had a rabbit and that rabbit was alone with me and I was fee...
I thought I detected a bit of wonder in his voice, that he'd like to become part of a story, any story.
I wondered for a moment if he was trying to get me to join a cult, but I realized it was just his youth talking, not a dogma.
I was thinking about stabbing myself in the face—not actually considering stabbing myself in the face, but thinking that it would be a physical expression of how I felt.
I couldn't blame anyone for what was in me, because I am, like everyone, populated entirely by myself.
He would never be that way again. He would never have the power of that specific kind of not-knowing.
That boy never seemed to smile and he wore long sleeves year-round, and I was not so different from him—we were both unable to get near the real life in life.
I had never really stopped thinking of how the smartest person I knew had, after much thought, decided that life was not worth it—that she'd be better off not living—and how was I supposed to live aft...
I closed my eyes, tried to get as far away from myself as I could.
Lately, I couldn't remember those years, as if childhood was a movie I'd only seen the previews to.
And he'd said nothing or something that amounted to nothing, and I tongued this memory like a burn in my mouth until the bathwater cooled and shook me back into my body where my fingerprints were ruff...
It was grotesque and eerie, too strange of a dream.
