To spend a lifetime unloved: locked apart from existence, your nose pressed against that glass, watching. This isn’t just missing out on the warm fuzzies: holding hands over dinner, embracing in a hotel room, laughing together. You’re also missing the screaming matches, the fuck-yous, the silences that stretch like toxic taffy. You’re missing the brawling and the boring, the commitment that lies on the shoulders as a blanket, light one moment, stifling the next, sustaining in all moments. You are frigid. You are forgotten.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.