Then I go in the den and turn on Law & Order, since the only thing i can really count on in life is that whenever I turn on the TV, there will be a Law & Order episode.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

I kiss her and she finds the light switch and turns it off, and we're just lit in Pepsi-can colors and it's like we've finally found this other kind of conversation, this conversation in gestures and pulls and pushes and breaths and grasps and teases and glimmers and rubs and expectation.

I was attempting to write the story of my life. It wasn't so much about plot. It was much more about character.

I'm not a very happy person," I told him."But sometimes I can trick myself into thinking I am.

To love--to fall--is not a question. To touch--to kiss--to speak--those are questions.

Self-esteem can be so exhausting. I want to cut my hair, change my clothes, erase the pimple from the near-tip of my nose, and strengthen my upper-arm definition, all in the next hour.