Blog entries by neuropsychopharm

  1. I wake up to shattered glass and vomit on the floor of the motel room. Shallow cuts on my hand, specks of blood on the sheets. I don't know how I got here, how I paid for this room. There was a man! I remember. He must've taken care of it. I don't know where he went, can't even recall what he looked like. Must've scared him away. And that's fine with me. I try to recollect the details of...
  2. July: We’re in his cousin’s driveway again. I’m sweating hard, the car getting too hot for me to handle—I crack open the door a little. “What are you doing?” Jeremy hisses, shutting it again. Not sure why he’s so worried. We’ve been caught before. I never was even the slightest bit inclined to do something like this, but now there’s something about outdoor sex that excites me. His...
  3. Late June: A professor of mine told me that I have an adolescent brain. “Not to insult you or anything,” she’d said. “It’s just that at twenty-two, your brain is still developing.” It’s the thought that I’m almost done that powers me through my days lately—my days at a job designed for adolescents, the kind of job that teenagers work because they don’t know any better. Because they don’t...
  4. I'm feeling really bad about this writing contest. I can't shake it. Just had to share with my blog. I let little things devour me, though.
  5. A professor of mine told me that I have an adolescent brain. “Not to insult you or anything,” she’d said. “It’s just that at twenty-two, your brain is still developing.” It’s the thought that I’m almost done that powers me through my days lately—my days at a shitty job designed for adolescents, the kind of job that teenagers work because they don’t know any better. Because they don’t expect to...
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