“I tried to kill myself,” I told her. We were holding hands drinking expensive juices made with wheatgrass and she didn’t look over at me, just kept sipping hers. “I’m serious.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” she said. “What can I even say?”
“I just wanted you to know.”
MRR’s a great journal, and this is a jam-packed-full-of-goodness issue. Check it out.