CategoryOur Journal

Text I Never Sent


Thanks for giving me my space. You’re perfect.
Sometimes when me and him dance like devils, I wonder if you’re doing it too.
And if not, I bet deep down you get a feeling – a quick kick – that I’m doing it.
You’re too cute. I can’t even fuckin handle it.
Ha. You wish.

Ripped School Envelope


11/21 You asked if the story was about us. My story. The one I wrote two weeks ago for class. The one I spoke of when I was on the phone with him,  as I sat on the hood of my car; you sat in the passenger seat, staring at your phone, pretending to make a phone call. What makes “us?” Who is “we?” All I know is, it takes more than one person to make an us. You haven’t...