Tales of my psychopath, racist, sexist, homophobic, angry, belligerent, embarrassing, dead beat older brother: the Easter edition.
April 25, 2013
Eleven months have passed and I can still feel the reverberation of all the moments I never thought I’d have—murmuring under silky sheets, morning breath-laced i love you’s, soft kisses along brow bones. Sometimes I can feel this day before I fall asleep, pressed up against me, brushing the baby…
Read this really nice thing that Carolyn wrote which I’m going to ruin by saying ewww because Andrew.
School: no shoulder-revealing shirts
School: you might ferociously anal fist each other in the hallway