My friends say

If you like him, run.

I just don’t have the energy to keep up with the men anymore.

I’m sure I could find you a date if you weren’t so picky about sexual preference.

It’s a clusterfuck we both have to endure.

One must assess if the man in question produces a good kind of pain or bad.

Use extreme caution.


Now if only I can remember.

Oh God, I have a date Thursday night.

Oh God, I gave another guy my number. After I gave him the wrong number.


Listen, I’m changing topics now. I’m ashamed that I was furious with my aunt when I know she has been scared and hurting. She’s left for rehab closer to home. I will miss her. And I think if I’ve neglected her intermittedly (and I have), then I’m as bad as the rest of my family. My friend diagnosed me with Caretakers’ Syndrome.


 And you know how much I like to be diagnosed.


On writing. This is what I think. Writers are meant to tell certain stories. And sometimes something that happened to us is a story for someone else to tell.