I was excited to exist as a non-religious writer, free of the idea that my words might “save” someone. Which is why I was surprised when, recently, I realized I was acting like a religious person.
Existential collapse is often treated as the domain of men coming face to face with their mortality. For me and other women, our crisis wasn’t how much life was left, but how much of it we gave away.
We attribute divine inspiration to madness, but escaping the cycle of mania for the comfort of a calmer mind doesn’t mean abandoning artistic greatness.
When you grow up eating alone, sometimes a terrible dinner is all you can ask for.
My grandfather was gone before he died. Even when I dream about him, I can’t bring the real Bob back.
Fourteen years after his death, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy author’s influence can be as much a burden as it is a source of comfort.
It’s not easy to put a person back together, even at the U.S. military’s premier burn unit.
Our minds have a funny way of re-writing history. What do we do with all we’ve forgotten?
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