I don’t mind the occasional conversation with a close friend, but when a near stranger asks me, as they often do, “So you make enough money writing?” or “No offense, but how do you live?” I do everything in my power to not freak out.
What is it like to be so many things?
My father’s first love was chemistry. He figured out he wanted to be a scientist way before he could finish his first chapter book and proceeded to make himself that, and hasn’t stopped working since.
I didn’t trust your science for years but now that I drink more water I mysteriously don’t get headaches anymore. I never liked to admit you were right about anything but this time I kind of wish I could tell you.
This playlist is comprised of all manner of weirdness with a good backbeat, from pop to electronica to Eurotrash.
The thing is, there’s no real way to decide who goes where until your life equilibrium is disrupted somehow, a byproduct of any kind of disaster, natural, emotional, physical or whatever.
Most of your day is spent horizontal, and not in a fun way.
Here is a fairly obvious observation: it’s usually the one who gets dumped that gets all the attention.
I want you because you and I, the thought of you and I. Those letters forming those words, those words sticking together, the jellyfish swell and shrink in my chest when I think about what they mean.
Easily my greatest fear in relationships is losing sight of who I am as an individual and becoming an indistinguishable part of a unit, which might in part be because I used to let it happen so much.