“‘Gimme a whiskey’” by Sasha at her desk

Sunday June 30, 2019
5:56pm
Fallon
Louis L’amour

Your shoulders square. You wish that you could call someone but your phone is dead. You aren’t sure where your charger is, or if you even have a charger anymore. You’ve been using Liz’s charger. You close your eyes and imagine going to the freezer and putting ice in a glass. You imagine that you remembered to refill the ice tray. You imagine going to the cabinet above the fridge, just enough out of reach, and pulling down the bottle of Maker’s. You imagine pouring half a glass and drinking it. Not fast. Not slow. Not interrupted. Not wrong.

“I’ve been catfished!” by Sasha at Higher Grounds


Friday March 6, 2015
1:41pm
5 minutes
from a text from Sandra

Not even kidding. Not even. I sobered up one year ago today. It’s pretty strange being twenty and being sober. I said I’m not gonna drink because I wanted to live a life of abstinence from everything. I couldn’t get clean, and, after I moved here, I stopped doing drugs but it was hard not to drink. It’s, like, acceptable. This year I’ve been clean and sober from everything. I didn’t do the program because it felt cult-y. I don’t know. No offence, I mean, I know it really helps people, but I found that it was this weird meat market where everyone was looking for a fuck, or something. I’ve got a new life to live, man. It’s a day by day thing. I just wanna be a better person. Alcohol is everywhere. It really is. Going out dancing sober is pretty fucking uncomfortable. But I do it. I want to do it. It’s a real shame. I’ve lived a whole life of forgetting everything, blacking out, you know. I don’t want to forget.

“I might be” by Sasha at Matchstick Coffee Roasters


Monday January 19, 2015 at Matchstick Coffee Roasters
5:12pm
5 minutes
from a poster in Ricardo’s studio

I might be the only one here with any real love in my life. Sorry. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way but like, I feel badly because in some ways it feels like I shouldn’t even be here, you know? Why am I fucked up when I’ve got all this love going on all over the damn place?

We have mice. My roommate and I. And she’s new so I feel like a dick that’s been leaving granola out or something… Which I have been doing… I just, like, I forget, you know, I forget about wiping the counter. There’s better shit to do.

My name is Alana and I’m an… Shit. This is so fucking weird. It feels contrived. Or, like… I don’t think I belong here. I might be that one person that everyone looks at like, “I feel bad for you…” Feel bad for me! Do it! I dare you!