The air between them began to settle into a silence. Awkward, yet softly exciting. Like an unexpected snow day.
This, I think, is a little glimpse of what life could be like without my family. Home could be a place of laughter and love, a refuge. I’m filled with a terrifying weightlessness, like I’ve...
He looks like the kind of boy who would jump trains, strum guitars, and pass a joint.
You can’t screw up your own suicide and then expect the universe to give you presents wrapped in the skin of a wonderful boy. That’s just not the way it works.
Hurricanes couldn’t remove you from my mind. You’re my world and I’m incapable of not loving you.
Somehow, the pain and rage and confusion of the past eighteen years dissolves until all that is left is this one perfect moment; unscripted, unedited, it’s ours and ours alone.
A wounded animal yet bears teeth
The past is past. You tried to kill yourself. So what? I humped a couch in season twelve. We all have our skeletons.
For every blissful moment you must an anguish meet.
I’m not Bonnie™ or Chloe. I’m the essence of her, the nontrademarked person the camera can never capture and my parents have no right to sign over. There is a sovereign nation encased in this...
There was a feeling on the air like the eve of the end of the world.
Even Mom doesn’t understand how being in front of a camera all the time twists and warps you. How one second it makes you feel unbelievably alive and the next publicly strips you down until...
Hate is a lot like love. It’s warm and fills you up until every part of you is tingling to release it.
I hadn’t yet come to terms with the man my father was, or the lives he’d destroyed. But I accepted that he was part of me, and that he’d loved me once.
I don’t like seeing myself on camera.” But that’s not it–that sounds shallow, like I’m worried I’ll look fat or something. “It’s like somebody is walking on my grave. TV immortalizes you. The episodes are...
Beneath Albright’s office, the colliery sprawled across the hillside, red brick buildings scattered as though hurled from a great height, a hotchpotch of mismatched structures spattered on the valley floor. At the bottom stood the...
If my sister were a character in a Victorian drama, she would be the snobbish rich girl with a penchant for talking shit about everyone behind their fan.
The truth is, time marches on and you have two choices: You move forward, come what may, and you experience all the sour and sweet things that fly at you from around corners, or you...
This night felt like a last hurrah, like we could blaze our brightest, at the apex of our insane adolescence. This was our Mardi Gras before the dark days of Lent.
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