“Order fails, and ghosts come in. Now there are hands on my body, the sheets tangling like a snare around us. He stinks of cigarettes and booze, and I am floating, falling, somewhere, between here and there, and I think:… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“And suddenly I think: nothing is fine. It’s never fine. It’s always an illusion. Happy smiles, assurances, jokes, laughter—there’s no way to tell if… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“Order fails, and ghosts come in. Now there are hands on my body, the sheets tangling like a snare around us. He stinks of… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“They say that God never closes a door without opening a window. I hate that saying. Closing a door is an asshole move, and… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“Borders. Tresholds. Doorways. Windows. Neither inside nor out. Not one thing any longer, but not yet another. The in between. Order fails, and ghosts… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“There's a certain language, a dying language, and I can't remember who speaks it or where in the world they are, but in that… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“I want one more moment, one more word, one more touch, and I'm not the only one. Everywhere I look there are hungry ghosts,… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“I feel like a bird, sometimes, I think. My bones are sometimes as hollow as bird bones. I call and call in my own… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“ Poor girl, so tragic, so bad, poor girl, so dreadful, so sad... But people are always judging, even when they express sympathy.” — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
“Our fingers brush together for a brief moment, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be touched. Not fucked. Not kissed. Not titillated.… — Andra Brynn Copy Share Image
