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Writing

This tag is associated with 8 posts

I feel fine

It takes awhile, but Allison finally convinces you to sit up. First you rolled over on your back and stared up at the sky, so full of the starless moonless dark, and then at Allison’s shadowed face, searching for an expression your aching head could comprehend, something understanding, sympathetic, and loving. You finger your lower … Continue reading

Shell games

When Isaiah finally drifted back toward the car, Kevin asked about Jodie’s suicide attempt, how long ago it had been, what he had done. Because Jodie didn’t seem like the type of person who would do that, he said. He seemed happy. Was it over something with Danielle? Isaiah shook his head. His brow was … Continue reading

We were all friends

I don’t know. Maybe I was too friendly. Led him on so that he got the wrong idea about us. All of this stuff—dating, love, doing the right thing—it’s so hard when you’re young. Feels impossible sometimes. I liked Kevin. He was my best friend. But I just didn’t like him in that romantic kind … Continue reading

You are special, pt. 3

Once during our conversation I mentioned I’d been writing about our encounters. Doctor K seemed pleased by this. He wanted to know why, what purpose it served me. “I do it for a couple reasons,” I said. “One is that it’s kind of like flexing my muscles—keeping these journals helps me as a writer. I’m … Continue reading

You are special, pt. 1

Another Friday session with Doctor K. It was only my third, and maybe I should have lowered my expectations of treatment, but from our talks I was beginning to get an awful feeling of being adrift, lost, without direction. There didn’t seem to be much of an agenda. Every session I entered the room and … Continue reading

You’re a great person, but I should stop here

Haven’t been in town for a few days. Decided that it might be nice to get away, which, when I think about it, is a funny notion — because all of the things I want to get away from are impossible to escape. I can’t step out of my body, can’t leave it behind in … Continue reading

Bury these warning signs

Had a moment the other day when I took from the fridge the small basket containing all of my pills and set the bottles on the counter one by one. When I get to something like buproprion, sometimes, you know … sometimes I wonder how many of those pale, hospital green pills I’d need to … Continue reading

On a little boat, alone, sailing the Nausea

The days all kind of feel like a blur lately. All I seem to remember are routines: time doing math homework, time wasted online, time on the couch half-watching TV, half-reading We Need to Talk About Kevin (which has been an enjoyable, but slow, read), and, of course, time sick. All I really remember of … Continue reading

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