I remember looking under the dining room table and finding a pastel basket filled with ten dimes, a handful of jellybeans, and a package of Peeps.
I remember taking a wrong turn and preparing to fend for myself on the freeway on-ramp.
I remember being his manic pixie dream girl.
I remember silent tears dripping onto the sheets of my Portuguese hotel room, wanting and needing only to hear from my best friend.
I remember looking at my hands and wondering whether that dark red juice came from my veins or the freshly picked blackberries.
I remember stooping to his level of deception and not feeling an ounce of remorse.
I remember being excited that they invited me, hoping that by finally becoming a last resort maybe soon I would be a priority.
I remember finding a shirt I liked and insisting on buying it in multiple colors.
I remember touching a drop of holy water to my tongue, mystified that it tasted so impure.
I remember my panic when he didn’t appear online, realizing I had no connection to his life but him, and now he was gone without explanation.
I remember dotting blue and red paint to the paper as it slowly formed into a jellyfish.
I remember putting in my earphones and wishing nobody would sit next to me, later becoming great friends with my unwelcome bus buddy.
I remember when she told me she planned to overdose at summer camp.
I remember the ungodly amounts of scotch tape my grandmother used to adhere red and green wrapping paper to our Mattel dolls and new sweaters.
I remember the cold leather chilling my back and how unashamedly frigid I was towards him.
I remember my first college care package, which came to me from the mom of the roommate I barely talked to and not my own mother.
I remember telling them I had dinner plans, but didn’t say they were with a bowl of leftover spaghetti and the rhythmic clang of my jean buttons beating against the dryer wall.
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