Currently Reading:


I don’t love any of my old boyfriends anymore. I’m not sure I ever did, and I’m not sure if at the time I thought I was sure. My mother says that’s normal, that men are proud of every one of their conquests, and women wish they could forget it all. She says that’s an essential gender difference, and I can’t say I disprove her theory. What keeps me from full revulsion, from wanting the sexual equivalent of an annulment, is thinking about what I got from each one that I still hold on to now.

Lena Dunham, Not That Kind of Girl


“True lovers row, then fall the next second back into each other’s arms; more seasoned lovers will walk up the stairs or into the next room before they repent and retrace their steps. A relationship on the brink of collapse will find one partner two blocks down the road or two continents to the east before something tugs, some responsibility, some memory, a pull of a child’s hand or a heart string, which induces them to make the long journey back to their other half. On this Richter scale, then, Clara made only the tiniest of rumbles. She turned toward the gate, walked two steps only, and stopped.”

Zadie Smith, White Teeth

If I could put all my past lovers and every single person who’s ever hurt me in a room, I would run to you over and over again. If I had to pick someone to break my heart all the times they’ve dented mine, I would choose you to set it on fire and shatter it every time. I would choose you the moment I open my eyes and I would choose you when the alcohol is in my system. I choose you the moment the melatonin knocks me out and I choose you when I am lonely on a rainy day. I choose you when I am frustrated with a research paper and I choose you when I need to bawl over the death of my favorite characters. I will always choose you. And I will still choose you even when you don’t choose me.

by Ming D. Liu

Continue reading

I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything, couldn’t do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything.

Richard Siken

Continue reading

A psychiatrist once told me early in treatment, “Stop trying to make me like you,” and what a sobering and welcome smack in the face that statement was. Yet somehow, every day of my life is still a campaign for popularity, or better yet, a crowded funeral.

John Waters

Continue reading