Non-Fiction

“My sweet, forbidden, secret recipe. Doctors will call you bipolar disorder, but to me, you are life itself.”

“I’d been detaching from my body for years, secretly relieved that I wasn’t ever going to birth children of my own.”

“My family prefers to refer to it as “poisoning”, which I’ve struggled to come to terms with.”

“Jumping was the entire point, of course. V. had amassed the thorns to train the kittens by way of trauma.”

“If I just tried harder my brain would change the structure and would morph into a normal one.”

“It is the sound of a house not shaped by uncertainty, bad decisions and poverty. It is the sound of a normal house.”

“It was no different than any other day for me. ‘Active shooter… Shelter in place…’ was all I could process…”

“Gram finds a lounge chair in the shade, does her usual magic trick and recedes into the background…”

“She stares blankly until Elvis Presley’s silky baritone moves through my iPhone. ‘Wise men say,’ he croons…”