You Love Me This Much.

My Style Is Colloquial Storytelling. It's The Way We Tell Stories To One Another - It's Not Writerly, It's Not Overdone.

Denial Is Not Just A River In Egypt.

I Feel Like I'm Going To Hurl. Which, Even If I Wanted To Do, I Couldn't Do, Because I Haven't Eaten. I Can't Even Drag Myself Out Of My Room. And While I'd Be Able To Muster The Strength To Roundhouse Fang Until He Begged For Mercy, I'de Be Mush Around An Eraser.

I Mean,he Decided We'd Be Better Apart,you Know?it Wasn't A Joint Decision.like, If Your Gonna Make A Decision About Me And My Life Without Consulting Me,i'd Better Be Dying And Unconscious And You'd Better Be Following Carefully Written Instructions.

Then I Went To Bed And Cried Into My Pillow. I Wasn't Sad, Not At All. It Was Just So Beautiful To Have An Intense Feeling And The Right Words At The Same Time. What Are We But Our Stories?