The Way You Make Me Feel

It's easy not to be disappointed when you're always wading in the shallow end of feelings.

The first woman president has to happen in my lifetime, or I'm going to light this entire planet on fire.

And his expression, now. I realized right then -- how disappointed you could be when you were all in with someone. When you cared so deeply. How your heart could break, so precisely and quickly.

As I stood there surrounded by three people who had the ability to do just that-crack my chest open to all the disappointment and difficulty and grief-I knew I still wanted it. The risk of the bad stuff was so worth the good stuff. People who would be there for you even when you messed up and behaved like a little jerk? They were the good stuff.

I hated when my dad gendered the stupid truck. To retaliate, I called my boobs Brock and Chad, which my dad hated with equal fervor.

I blinked. Because even though my dad never, ever complained about being a young dad, I always wondered about his regrets. How his need to keep abandoned, sad things might apply to me, too.

I related to this future version of America that wasn't tidy but layered, improvised, and complicated.

The person who feels no fear in their heart when seeing a freaking clown in the flesh is probably a serial killer!

So, we have a dishwasher, but we never use it,” he said at one point, gesturing toward it.

I’d protect that little part of the universe for as long as possible.

I threw a Parmesan cheese packet at her