“You said not to read his old texts” by Julia on her couch


Thursday August 31, 2017
11:58pm
5 minutes
From confidential sides

Told yourself you wouldn’t log into his e-mail account.
You put a tally beside your computer and started calling it your sobriety calendar.
Eleven days clean. Haven’t checked it since that fall.
You told yourself that “this is why you don’t snoop through other people’s lives.”
You said “this is why you stop rationalizing all together.”
There are exes marked day after day. You nod, slightly to the fact that you are now an ex marked day by day.
You wonder if his computer will notify him that someone else is in his account.
You worry that he already knows what you’re doing.
You wonder why he doesn’t change his beautiful password.
You wonder why he chose her over you.
You wonder why you eat a tub of peanut butter every three days.

“I don’t even think that your songs are about me” By Julia at her dining table


Wednesday January 11, 2016
2:40pm
5 minutes
Like You
EXES


When we saw each other again for the first time in three years, you looked different. You smiled different. I felt like you did that on purpose so I wouldn’t look too closely at the you we both know you used to be. It didn’t work. Distractions don’t work on people who have seen your entire insides. I should know. I can’t hide from you either. Even if I was panicking about how I looked seconds before you met me at the underground station. I didn’t want you to think anything other than I Used To Love This Person. I wish I didn’t think that appearances were the only road to remembering that. When we hugged I tried to hold on a little longer so I could smell your neck. I don’t know if I was expecting the same smell you used to have, or hoping for a new one to break all my stupid patterns. Either way I might have been the only one in that hug, and it broke my heart a little. You told me that it’s good to see me and I wanted to say Yeah? But Can You Define What Good Means To You Real Quick? Instead I laughed and swatted at your arm, saying You Too, You Too.

“This job makes me” by Julia on her couch


Thursday, March 28, 2013
8:52pm
5 minutes
All My Friends Are Dead
Avery Monsen and Jory John

I’m a different person now than I was, Melanie says to Rick, her high school sweetheart with a really obnoxious neck tattoo of a pink flamingo laying on a beach. You must be different too, she says as she slurps back the peanut butter smoothie she forced him to buy her. I’m just seeing life as it is you know? Nothing weird about it in my opinion. Rick doesn’t respond. He is busy flicking the dead beer bug back and forth across the coffee table. He shoots, he scores. Don’t you think time is running out a bit for you? I mean, I’ve moved on and you’re still…you know…working at the same place. Rick looks up from the table. I’m just doing what I need to do. Never mind what I’m doing, Mel, you can do what you want. I’m not saying you’re wrong, Ricky, I’m saying you’re too bored with life and you always have been so if you just applied yourself to looking around and thinking, oh hey, I might be good at something else, then maybe you’d have a really good career in Talk Radio or something. Rick stares at her blankly. I guess Roger has nice 9-5 job then? He’s a real man, I’m assuming? Makes you really happy and brings you lots of tulips?
Melanie hides her half smirk. He doesn’t bring me tulips, she says. Orchids sometimes, though.