The Sunday Rumpus Essay: This American Paradise
The thing about Paradise is this—yours can’t be mine, and mine can’t be yours. Paradise exists in the imagination, and imagination is our only privacy.
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meth
20 posts
Voices on Addiction: Mother’s Day
I will always feel a little broken. Intellectually, I know her disease is “not my fault.” But I’m her mother. I will always partially feel the blame.
Voices on Addiction: Too Much Hope
I wanted more time with him, but I didn’t want to hope. Too much hope will mess you up.
The Saturday Rumpus Essay: A Brief History of a Bad Heart
She studies you, still panting with an energy that consumes the room, and whispers in a reedy voice: “They say you fucked up your heart.”
Are We All Our Own Vanishing
We will never be an exclamation point, an ellipses, a question mark. We must all leave with this: a period—solid, and utterly irrefutable.
Welcome to the Rest of Your Life
Building a life based on lies was how my parents had taught me to live, and it would take a full twenty-one years after I left home the first time,…
What to Read When There’s No More Breaking Bad
With the series finale of Breaking Bad drawing ever closer, we’re looking for new ways to get our drug-story fix. That’s why we were as excited as Aaron Paul on The Price…