I think it's been about five years, and people still ask about you. I think it's been five years because I don't count. I've never counted. I try not think about it at all. When I do try to talk about you, I never know where to begin. The first time I saw you and... Continue Reading →
I want to go to his house and break all his windows. I want to take everything that means anything to him, and curb stomp it into the ground. I want to punch him in the stomach a thousand times, until he finally hurts as much as I do, and when he does he will... Continue Reading →
I've been doing everything I possibly can not to write about you. I shut down my computer. I make more plans. I thwart my own desire to write. I don't tell friends your name, I won't introduce you. I put your flowers on the coffee table and stuffed the hand written note into the top left... Continue Reading →
He isn't the type to show up in your doorway, and that's a good thing. When I watch the wrong movie and the man tells the woman he respects her for her tenacity and strength, and that he wants her to be successful because she's earned it, I cry; he doesn't come. When the janitor... Continue Reading →
Three... two... one... And the room goes wild. He kisses me. He tastes like you think a man should. His arms are wrapped around me, clutching my back to shield me from the crowd. We are pressed tight, an ocean of champagne and shouting. He downs the last of an enormous beer, crashes the glass... Continue Reading →
I hated the way you said I had no "values" because I see people with compassion. Because I believe love has solved more problems than condemning ever has. Because I believe your version of justice would leave the world with blank eye sockets and toothless gums, choking down their own teeth. I hated the way... Continue Reading →
We're having a beer at the pub, and me being me, I'm being an asshole. Other than a brief flirt at an alumni event, I hadn't seen Kyle in about a month. I'd skipped town, and he'd facebooked me, asking to hang out while I was surfing in Central America. "You were ridiculous," I chide... Continue Reading →
Every mother has one story about each child that, over and over, they still love to tell. In this one, I am standing in the grocery store, maybe four years old - up to her knees or so - and I tug on her jeans. “Mommy! Mom! Moooooom!” I say, eyes full and round. She... Continue Reading →
ifoundyouinthedark 