The Ex

by Freida McFadden

I always thought there was a distinct line between me and The Homeless. They did drugs. They were alcoholics. They had mental illnesses. I was safe from that life because I drank responsibly, said no to drugs, and was sane (more or less). But now, with my rent due in two weeks and absolutely no way to pay it, I realize the line isn’t as distinct as I’d once thought. In two weeks, I’ll be able to take a seat next to this woman on the pavement.

Everyone ages, so the only way to keep from getting old is to die young.

All she can think about is that watermelon-sized baby coming out of her orange-sized hole.

“What? You think I’m making this whole thing up?” “A little. Yeah.” How dare he? Even though he’s absolutely right.

This is so me lol