500 Characters | Jennifer Weitman
Please swipe left it you’ve ever told a woman she’s pretty just to get her into bed or that she smells nice and she is lovely and that you had a really nice tim...
Please swipe left it you’ve ever told a woman she’s pretty just to get her into bed or that she smells nice and she is lovely and that you had a really nice tim...
TW: suicide A letter to my sister, Ericka Dear Ericka: Exactly three months have passed since you sat in your small American car, faced a r...
TW: abuse My childhood’s secure within the borders of faded photographs, the child me I barely remember, the one who called his mother sweetheart because...
1. From what I knew of her, Jenny was an art kid. She was known for her small eccentricities—paint dotted hands, glittery overalls. Her hair was big, curly brow...
We stood at the top of those stairs; the ones that led from the major street below, steeply up the hill to the Souplantation parking lot. The stairs where I had...
1. Few realized how quickly the world was converging on itself. In fact, few believed the world was converging at all. The earliest reports were dismissed, labe...
Poppy taught us where the safety is, and how to hold real still when your finger pulls the trigger. Into the hot baked clay, like mom’s cakes or her hair pomade...
Dick Albright was hung each day in junior high P.E., not by the neck, but from the crotch to the knees, at least. Dick is a nickname, diminutive, but Dick was n...
I never had the chance to ask you what you meant when you said she was the first person you had ever met who was more fucked up than you were. You showed...