Bad News Should Be Followed With Soup.

Each Time My Mother Went Psychotic, I Hoped It Would Be The Last Time. Afterward She Would Tell Me, 'i Think That Was The Final Episode. I Think I Had A Breakthrough.' And I Would Believe-for A Few Months-that It Was True. That She Was Back To Stay. Maybe It Was Like Having A Rock Star Mother Who Was Always On The Road. Were There Benatar Children? Did They Sit Around And Wonder If Their Mom's Hell Is For Children Tour Was Going To Be Her Last Tour?

Like Cubic Zirconia, I Only Look Real. I'm An Imposter. The Fact Is, I Am Not Like Other People.

And Of Course, The Answer Came To Me In The Same Way Jesus Comes To Those Who Drink In Trailers: As An Epiphany.

My Thoughts Seem Thick, Ketchup Stuck In A Bottle. Like Trying To Feel Someone's Face While Wearing Goosedown Mittens.

And I Tend To Listen To Npr When I'm Not Writing.