Not a Game
The summer that three of my friends committed suicide, my sister convinced me that the voices in my head were them telling their true stories of being murdered.
The summer that three of my friends committed suicide, my sister convinced me that the voices in my head were them telling their true stories of being murdered.
My friends can't decide whether to be creeped out or amused by the fact that I have it bad for the girl who was my roommate for a week in a mental hospital.
We just found my half-sister's half-brother, and my mom wants me to hook up with him.
I should have known he was bad news when he told me he used to pour milk in his bed and sleep in it.
Once I saw her YouTube channel, I knew that breaking up with her was going to be a surgically delicate process.
It always brings a smile to my face when my dad tells large groups of strangers how he once cut himself on Jello.
The psychiatric hospital wasn't as weird as I expected it to be, which disturbed me all the more.
When we brought in the eighth cat for the second time, I remember thinking, "This is yet another step on the pathway to Crazy Cat Ladyhood."