I can't write anymore.

everything she asks of me

So, I’m dating Marilyn Monroe.  We’re living together, actually.  Right now, she’s sitting on the white couch with the black stains, watching me write this.  What are you writing? she wants to know.  A love letter, I say.

She’s eating grapes.  She’s really into them right now.  One by one, she sucks them into her mouth with ( Read more... )

I cant stop smiling.

It just sort of stopped hurting, though I'll never shake out his ghost completely.

fuck easy, this hurts like hell.