The Story of Red Before I was born, my father and mother and brother Anu lived in an ugly green house on Woods Hole Road. They Had many people who would come and stay with them from time to time, waiters and waitresses from the restaurant they worked at, hippies passing through town... And my mothers siblings who travelled out from Michigan
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Being sick can make you crazy. At least that's what it does to me. Yesterday was hard. The lopsided chipmunk thing is slowly going away, but I feel so weak, and inside me I have that feeling like heartbreak. Breathlessness. Regret
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Post anything that you want (in the comments), BUT post it ANONYMOUSLY. It can be anything. A story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love -- anything. Be sure to post Anonymously and Honestly. Post twice or 40 times if you'd like
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This is a transcript of me talking on a day when I was still struggling to get clean, and stuggling with my place in the world. It's long, and meandering, and more for my benefit than anyone else's
It all started over some sushi at little Japanese joint in Harvard Square. I'd never had a guy take me out for sushi before, as a matter of fact I'd never really had a guy take me out, just like I'd never had a guy buy me roses, either. I didn't come from that kind of culture
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A word of advice to those who would follow in my footsteps, or 'SEMANTICS ARE A BAD IDEA WHEN YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT YOUR FRIEND WHO JUST KILLED HIMSELF'
"What happened to the story?" Dare asks
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It's not so far, the store on the corner, it's only a corner or two away- that's why we call it the corner store. We might call it the convenience store, but really it isn't
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I never got those breasts they promised me, that hourglass figure. My face still breaks out at least once a week and I see no wrinkles in the mirror
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