I never sent this letter but I wrote it all the same, a few years ago. Dear Sam, I remember freshman year, you picked me up from my dorm as the sun was setting. It was cold, January if I remember correctly. As I ducked into your car the streetlights were starting to… Read More The Night You Got Alcohol Poisoning: Letter to Sam 5.21.15
19 May 2017 Dear ______, The beginning of the end, or perhaps a draw closer to the inevitable climax: I am seated in a bar in Orono, Maine writing a letter to no one in particular instead of talking to those around me (I know no one here but the bartender). There was a cute… Read More Letter 5.19.2017 the ringing inside your ears
“Have you tried focusing on the living?” Eve asked. “I find I usually do.” He replied in an off-guard, puzzled tone. “No, no. The living are you and me right now, in this moment. Whatever happened in the past is dead.” She was very high. Sitting on the couch at another one of James’s parties… Read More Have you tried focusing on the living?
Written some time ago. Found again; typed up, recently. Four days ago a child from my high school killed himself. Right now I am sitting outside on a sunny day. The trees on campus are in bloom, flowering and attracting countless birds which I watch from my table. The invisible hand of the wind passes… Read More Beautiful Day but the High Schooler’s Suicide Is on My Mind
“Are you hungry?” Laura asked. “A little. It’s a little late.” I was sitting on Laura’s bed with my back against the wall. Laura’s head was on my lap. She was facing up at me. I was running my fingers through her hair, sprawling curls out one by one over my leg and onto the… Read More Are you hungry?
There, just behind you (don’t look now!) is a field where you spent time as a child, running through thickets chasing grasshoppers that jumped towards the sky and fluttered for a moment before crashing back into the ground. You used to wonder how with all their gusto and equipment they never could learn to… Read More There, just behind you
“I like how I can just reach out and touch you.” “What do you mean?” “Well I’ve dreamt of seeing you so many times, and I really believed I would never see you again.” She had one hand on the wheel and the other out her window. “You know this is a dream too, right?”… Read More It’s Nice, When You’re Here