It's like a Venn diagram of tragedy.

I get a message from my dad. In the mood I'm in, I tear up to see his name in my inbox, and imagine him down the hall in bed, propped on pillows, emailing me. "Hon,Enjoyed our gelato date the other night. I just want to say I'm proud of you for a lot of reasons. Also, I've attached a picture of my foot."He's such a weirdo goofball. I love him.

It's as if once you hit high school, you're programmed, like a robot, to be an asshole to your parents.

A know a place called New Beginnings, but I don't think it works quite like that. You can't just erase everything that came before.

Family or love or romance, whatever it is, is not restricted to perfect people. If it were, it wouldn't exist. All of that comes out in my work in some way.

I lived too much in my head instead of the real world.

he's a story i want to know from page one