449 Words. 2 Minute Read.

It’s eight-thirty in the evening, and I’m settling into a thick plug of tobacco in my left cheek. Why left, you ask? I don’t know—it’s where I place my chew. Always have. In fact, using the right side of my mouth would be like asking me to throw a football left-handed.

535 Words. 2 Minute Read.

Is there anything more satisfying than dislodging something with your tongue that’s been stuck between your teeth?

872 Words. 3 Minute Read.

I made a New Year's resolution in college to start smoking. While everyone else swore them off, I swore them on.

1,366 Words. 5 minute Read.

I am the emotional manifestation of stitches barely holding a life together—symmetrical and tidy on the outside, battered and bruised within, like a foot inside a ballet slipper.