Estimated number of Tinder messages received across all cities, not one resulting in a meet-up.
This was your life. You thought it was what you wanted, until one day it wasn’t.
And so it follows, the beginning of the end.
Last weekend I wondered if I might be slowly losing my mind.
I walked slowly, accompanied only by the broken disc in my spine and a fuzzy Vicodin hangover, to Cedars Sinai Hospital for back surgery.
I’m sitting outside on our patio, sipping tea and writing while overlooking the waves on the shoreline below, the early morning mist still rising off the water.
My family, together. My family, in love. My family, happy.
My roommate sleeps with a smile on her face. We are here, in the Galápagos Islands, for a weeklong retreat.
“No, it’s fine.” I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, a common refrain, contradictory in grammar as well as what I really meant by it.
I waited for the elevator to make its way to the ground floor of the parking garage.