“This isn’t working,” my dad said, as he re-applied the creme he bought at some random drug store to his foot.
“Can I ask you an awkward question?” he asked me in his drunken stupor, via Snapchat messages. “I’m going to do it anyway. Have you done porn, and if so, where is it?”
“What did I do to ruin our friendship? What happened to us?” I asked, three years since the last time we had spoken.
“We just lost touch,” she said.
No, we didn’t lose touch. I tried to hit you up so many times over the past three years and this is the first time you responded. <– That’s what I should have said, but instead I said, “okay.” Continue reading
Last night I woke up shivering and sweating. The tips of my fingers were numb. I began to panic and cry and did not understand what was going on. Is this still PTSD?
Once, a couple years ago, I was visiting my parents for some holiday and overheard a strange news story blaring from the television. “Hand sanitizer doesn’t work,” a newscaster claimed. “A new study shows that the effects of hand sanitizer only last for 10 seconds.”
I came in to the Advance Auto Parts store in a small town in New York on the border of Massachusetts today, looking to find a replacement bulb for my broken headlight, hearing many words from many people in the back of my mind, in situations that haven’t yet happened,