Like It Never Was

by Faith Gardner

Over the years, I’ve learned the art of how to sever ties. Call it a knife-sharp gift. Where it came from, I can’t say—born, learned, either way, it’s mine. I can cut things and people out of my life with the ruthless precision of a surgeon.

In the end, I’ve accepted I occupy a strange space where I’m not quite sane and not quite insane, not quite sober, not quite an addict. I’m just a professional dropout. I’ve got commitment issues. I’m nearly thirty years old and I’m ten miles wide and one inch deep.

love this first stage when cities, jobs, and people are brand new. Like the beginning of a passionate affair—a place of pure potential, where anything can happen. Nothing will crash and burn. No, never.

“Being alone is the bare-naked truth,”

“We’re born alone and we die alone. Company is temporary.”

memories are nothing but lies we tell ourselves.

The worst kind of unhinged—sane enough to be aware of how insane I’m acting.

there’s no way to heal without discomfort. If healing was easy, no one in this world would hurt.”

“Jesus can’t help you now, love, he’s long dead. And has there ever been a man more overrated? Let’s not speak of him, please, not in my casa.”