#1

Her entire worth was measured first by the number on the scale.
And, by everything else after.

#2

Everything they said had the same inflection.

Thank you dear.
No, thank you dear.
You cooked that so wonderfully.
You’re so handsome.

Their voices going up at the end of each sentence, as if everything was a question.
As if, they were never really sure of anything, which of course, they weren’t.

#3

Slowly, days congeal together to form months, and months blend together to form years, and before you know it, whole years become decades, and all of a sudden you’re in your mid-30s, and there’s barely any time left to have children.

How did it all go so fast?

#4

I never really knew my grandmother, I was 3 when she died.
But, my mother adored her.

When she turned 65, she said to me —
I can’t believe my mother was this age when I married your father.
I never thought of her age.
I always just kind of thought she was timeless.

#5

jeder will geliebt werden,
sagte er
aber für was? und wie?
fragte sie

#6

I used to think that everything I wanted in life would come true.
I thought that I would find love and travel the world.
I thought that I would figure out the thing I’m good at and do it well.
As time goes on, I’m not so sure anymore.

But maybe, there’s a kind of beauty in not knowing.
Or so, I tell myself.

#7

Sitting at my desk, with nothing but gray winter outside, the light shines on me. My eyelids soften. It feels as if the whole universe embraces me for a brief moment — and I feel loved, human, whole again.

#8

What was once foreign starts to become familiar.
A new map of the city starts to take shape in your mind.
You start to know neighborhoods and what they contain.
You finally understand which way the Ringbahn travels.

You repeat and reinforce routes and routines until they take up permanent residence in your mind. Finally, you know where you are, and more importantly — how to get back home.

#9

einfach zu lesen
und zu schreiben
und nichts zu tun
einfach mal sein
das war mein ziel damals

#10

The zipper breaks and the toenail turns green.
The eye swells up and starts to puss.
The bruise expands, morphing from blue to purple to yellow.

The bumps on my head harden.
“We’ll cut them out if they get any bigger,” the doctor says.

When did I start falling apart?

#11

Remember when we went on that moonlit walk through Viktoria Park, and all the kids were sledding on the hill, and it looked sort of dangerous, but also really fun, and the sun had just started to set against the white night sky?

Oh, what am I saying.
How could you possibly remember?
You’ve only just met me.

#12

I spend all day coming up with pen names for stories I’ll never write. I come up with dozens of names. I sound them out in my head, re-arrange them, say them out loud. I narrow it down to the ones I like best.

Will I ever use these?
Does anyone?
Does anonymity even exist anymore?

#13

How can I know who I am, when I am always in the process of becoming?