Like Working at Walmart
She heard sad things all day long in the usual turning of phrases until it felt everything she was touching was just a neatly packaged beauty supply or a deeply discounted drug: what everyone needed: detergents and cosmetics; she scanned shells for shotguns and rounds for 22s; and while handling cheap bras and polyester socks she began to feel the flimsiness of the lives of others. That grasping...
Don’t take her to movies but to cemeteries tell all about werewolf bathtubs and...– - “Marriage” by Gregory Corso
My name is Amanda. This is the part where I try to tell you everything about myself but I’m bad at that. So instead, bullet points! I’m twenty. It’s a bummer. My inner dialogue reads like a 4th grader’s writing exercise. I write constantly, and it goes on here. <3 THE END.