the ghosts i call darling [narrative]
I go down to the small cemetery by the edge of the river. Everything shines—there is no darkness here. The headstones persist in spite of what they know. They keep themselves up, pushing against that ...
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I go down to the small cemetery by the edge of the river. Everything shines—there is no darkness here. The headstones persist in spite of what they know. They keep themselves up, pushing against that ...
tw: homophobic slur
It’s my favorite feeling: when a really good idea hits me. Almost like I’ve been dumped face-first in a cold bucket of water and the chill is traveling all the way down my back, yet I can’t help ...
It’s a Saturday night, and there’s a drunk girl standing on the bar. Her dark hair, still bearing the remnants of a fading dye job, swings back and forth in time with the plastic beaded necklaces ...
“Cancer!” My sister shrieked, distraught as she barreled into my room at seven in the morning. “Of course he’s a Cancer!”
I was always an avid daydreamer. I imagined stories for each cloud that drifted past while my little sister stomped around, demanding that I play with her. I barely heard her, barely felt the dampness ...