THE ARCHIVES

I saw this questionnaire floating around the blogosphere, and thought I'd give it a go. Quirky questions, quirkier answers. You get the gist.

Something is different about me now. Something has changed. Somebody else looks back at me in the mirror, and she is both a stranger and a sister. It is refreshing as hell.

At some point in your life, several points probably, you will face a situation that forces you to leave behind everything you know, everything that has ever held meaning to you. That is where I find myself tonight.

Tell me something.

Is it terribly wrong to fall for a guy who runs in your ex’s circle… less than a month after you broke up with said ex?

‘Cause from this side of an abusive relationship, I’m not really sure.

Adventures in discovering myself in the Otherness of first romance.

Thoughts on Christmas Eve.

The author revisits this piece, which she wrote at eighteen.

The author left her home one year ago. And now she’s not going back.

My creative writing class gave me pizza as a random poetry topic. This is what I came up with.

A letter, in which the author calls bullshit.

From, that girl that you probably don't remember.

The day started well. He had felt a curious sense of calm as he rocked out of the Tempur-pedic, flossed his teeth twice, and made eggs, two of which he fed to the turtle. Six capsules went down with eight ounces of fruit punch, and in a bathrobe, he sat down at his 1963 Remington, and began to type.