There's So Much Guilt There Attached To

The Truth Is I Have Had, For Whatever Reason, Several Movie-star Boyfriends.

My Thoughts Are Messy, My Emotions Are Messy, My Body Goes In And Out At Will. The Raised White Scars On My Arms And Legs Are The Only Aspect Of My Being That Comes Close To Minimalism. They Came From Chaos, But It Is Hard To Carve Frustration And Unease Into The Flesh. Only Straight Lines.

Are You Mine?” Yes. “are You Mine?” Yes. “are You Mine?” No. “no?” No. I Loved Being Yours. But Now I’m Mine, Which Is All I Ever Was, In The End.

Write A Page Every Single Day, Even If What You Put On The Page That Day Is No Good - It's The Only Way To Get Better.

My Radar, After All These Years Of Sanity, Is Still Off When It Comes To What People Do Or Don't Mean.