Dear God ( Read more... )

                The walk back from Hameldon Square was mostly uphill. The incline was not terribly steep, but was still enough to leave Evan breathing heavily by the time he crested the hill.
                He had stayed at Barton’s for a while after Terry had left for work, buying himself a meager meal with a ten-dollar bill that had ever-so- ( Read more... )

Phunk.
            Evan glimpsed away from the blank laptop screen. The night through the window was like black ice. He thought he’d heard another noise amid the pattering of the rain on ( Read more... )

The Messy Geniuses (working title)

Prologue.

Rynnewood was a town that was neither remarkably small nor noticeably large. It had a baseball team that never won and a fire station that had once burned down.
            The residents of Rynnewood bore one another no particular animosity, nor any particular amicability, and ( Read more... )

I'm sure there's some manner of lesson to be learned here: by the time you finally realize you've fallen in love with someone they move to Japan for the summer.

How appropriate.

I'm intermittently taken by strange fascinations. I simply acquire minor inexplicable obsessions for no discernible reason and maintain them for a week or a month or so, and then move on. Not because I particulayly like the subject I'm compelled towards (though I may) but simply because I am compelled towards it. Right now I'm compelled by all ( Read more... )

I finally got my driver's license. Somehow I knew it was going to happen before the test started, that strange intuitive gut-feeling that borders on precognition. So that's one down. It feels like proof that I am capable of becoming a real person. Getting a job, going to college, breaking the cycle of stagnancy and inertia that seems to cripple my ( Read more... )

I traced the greater part of my issues over the past few months to the underlying existential crisis I've been overlooking. I figured that because I'd stopped believing in anything, I couldn't have a crisis of that sort, but that was part of the crisis itself ( Read more... )

The days of the Yearbook. And sentimental days they are. I didn't think I would be particularly moved by such a predictable source of emotionality, but on the contrary. I was looking at the group shot of the class just now and that did it. But it was different ( Read more... )

I can think again. Beautiful. And it's because I'm eighteen years old and waiting for death. How unfortunate.

Night is solace. I think it's what I imagine death to be like. Dark. Quiet. Uneventful. An eternity of peace and thought.

Idiotic.