In the final installment of The Dear Diaries I graduate and “hug a lot of people and guys”. I also work up the courage to hug my long-time crush. Thank you to all of those who read these silly things. I hope you found them as funny as I did. Read the rest of this entry »
I was 16 when I tried to commit suicide. I remember standing on the edge of the roof of my family’s home, looking past my toes when my mom stepped out for a cigarette. She made eye contact with me, realized what I was trying to do and yelled:
“I love you,” he said. There is a point in the night where Brooklyn gets really quiet and really beautiful. It’s at this point everyone on the street falls in love with whatever is closest. For Gio, the closest whatever was me.
“I don’t know, ‘Dimitry’ is not a name you can scream out in the sack,” Leslie said looking up from the email I’d forwarded her. “Okay but how do I look in this dress?” I had 15 minutes to get ready for my first (and hopefully last) blind date. If I’d utilized my roommate’s date-reasoning, I probably would’ve avoided my last two nightmarish relationships. Read the rest of this entry »
There comes a time in every strong, independent, single girl’s life when she can’t zip her dress all the way. At this time, she crumbles to the floor in a pile of teary worthlessness and decides it’s time to start dating again. Read the rest of this entry »
I love living in New York more than anything I have ever loved (including peanut butter, small bows and a well-made vodka martini), but I need to get out.
Once upon a time, there was a girl trying to survive in a very big city. One night, in her haste to slip out of a cab, the girl lost a shoe. Before she could yell out, the cab disappeared into the blurry, but well-lit, horizon.
As the girl ran down 4th ave (in one shoe) she thought, How whimsical and free-spirited, but when she sobered up she just realized, how stupid.
Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. It’s the natural pattern your chest follows when you’re, well…alive. Sometimes it speeds up, and other times it slows down. On Saturday, March 12, at 12:47 a.m. my chest went up and did not come back down.
I’m running. I could hear whistles and cat-calls as I sprinted down 7th avenue. My short dress was flying up exposing my pink and black-checkered underwear, but I didn’t care because I was late.
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I just had my heart broken three seconds ago. I was writing a post entitled “Running with Rabbis”. I was just rounding out the fourth paragraph when it happened out of nowhere.
MARINAvsWriting 