Thoughts on Vivid Dreaming. — There is a world’s worth of difference between those who remember their dreams and those who blink them away in the morning light. When I speak of mine, they sound incredulous and weaved with lies. …

Prose from SHS. — I cried my eyes raw for a weekend, drinking a bottle of gin each day, but the sensation of losing him wasn’t painful; it was just new and scary. I was too tangled in a sense of grief to let myself touch the excitement brewing in the recesses of my…

Prose from SHS. — Oddly, the sickest thing about slipping the promise ring on my finger for the last time was that I fantasized where he’d be in my wedding if he wasn’t the groom. If my experiment wearing the ring to rekindle my affections didn’t work, and I still couldn’t bear the thought…

Prose from SHS. — It took a while, collecting myself, sorting through old connections, reaching my hand out desperately to anyone that might take it, but I found something I thought had been lost: Peace in the presence of another person. I couldn’t tell how many years it had been since I could sit…

Prose from SHS. — It took some time of trial and error, adjusting to get the distance right. Close enough we could interact on casual terms harness our overwhelming knowledge of one another’s humor and opinions so we could reap the dopamine of familiarity. Far enough away I wouldn’t feel the constant pressing burden…

Prose from SHS. — All at once I cried in the arms of my best friend, my first love, my bitterest parting, and my woeful obligation. It did not feel wrong or hard to cling to one another, arms coiling tighter and tighter as shoulder fabric dampened. There were so many things to say…

Prose from SHS. — On the eve of the surgery, we clung to one another scalpels clutched in fists behind each other’s backs. Most of our connections had already been cut, long-dried puddles of blood littered the floor and our nerve endings sawdered clean dangling behind us, but there was one left, we’d saved…

Thoughts and Prose from SHS. — Eight years and hating it, I found myself unable to laugh at the persistent trope in media of the long-married couple that does nothing but dunk on each other for the comic relief of the rest of the cast (and obviously, amusement of the viewers). What’s so funny about an…

Prose from SHS. — It’s hard now to look back and draw a line, how I got from point A to point B, when the start was the bold declaration that I was leaving and the end was me begging him to let me go. I think that’s because Point A and Point B…