I look out into the water and up deep into the stars. I beg the sparkling lanterns of light to cure me of myself — my past and the kaleidoscope of mistakes, failures and wrong...

If I had an .MP3 of your heartbeat… I might actually get some sleep.

so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again…

You know, we queens loathed rain at the beach, small cocks, and reality, I think. In that order.

They killed them with blows to the head and machetes. It is very brutal, the beach would have been covered in blood.

But here I am in July, and why am I thinking about Christmas pudding? Probably because we always pine for what we do not have. The winter seems cozy and romantic in the hell of...

I know that this process of ‘me changing my life’ doesn’t just end once I set fire to this list of things I hate about myself. Tonight isn’t as much of a new beginning as...

Old beach houses sometimes don’t have TVs, or you don’t get cellphone reception.