You’ll never know who someone really is until they have a damn good reason to let you in. And for most people, it’ll only happen when they break down from so much pain. But when they do, I’ve learned to always be prepared.
Because if you’re any like me, you’ll only get one shot at it.
Love is always our first drug of choice unless it really isn’t.
An account of the author’s shifts in clothing choice over his collegiate years (to the best of his memorized ability).
Songs of joy mean nothing without first hearing one of pain.
Description of the phases of this author’s writing.
His experiences do.
An introduction I wrote for a collection of stories about how a few men chose to grow up not out of responsibility but from their own poignant discovery.
Who was your first true love? Mine wasn’t human.
Why we are so clueless about good spaghetti dinner.