“Your amazing,” he writes just as my treadmill starts to speed up.
And yes, he spelled it wrong, and the editor in me tries to withhold her judgment and not let an apostrophe, re, keep the butterflies at bay. But the butterflies aren’t coming anyway. They rarely come with him.
Read MoreSeven days ago I got a phone call that sparked a change in my life. That was nine months since graduation. Nine months since the clock struck midnight and life gave me another year to look ahead to. Nine months since all I could see in front of me was a massive pit of fog and millions of question marks.
Read MoreSince the day I stepped out of a classroom for the last time, shoved old notebooks into a plastic Target bag and donated my no. 2 pencils to a roommate who still had a year of tests to take, I have been asked the same question.
Read MoreWhat do you want now?”
She’s shivering on the bed.
He’s lying on the floor, face up, hands crossed on his chest. Praying she’ll say something. Imagining she won’t.
Read MoreIf there’s one thing that makes me nervous, it’s writing about myself. I’ve never thought about writing personal essays, and the one class I took in college that I tried to skip as much as possible was “Personal Narrative,” where we began every class with writing a one-page story about ourselves, and at the end of the quarter had to share—out loud—a ten page personal narrative that “exposed our genuine selves.”
No thank you.
Read More