The Gravity of Us

by Phil Stamper

porkpie hat

“I’m sad,” he says. And the way he says it makes me sad. “Like, I know that sounds juvenile, but I’m so sad. It feels hopeless, like there’s this big gaping hole in my chest, and it’s slowly eating me from the inside.

I leave the room and go to find my mom, who’s simultaneously stirring a soup she made for lunch and playing her DS.

This mom represents me better than any mom in a book ever

Nothing is broken.” But that’s not true: I’m broken. I’m here in pieces on this couch and everything is so hard.

But I’m a planner. Plans can change, I’m cool with that, but not having a plan at all? It terrifies me.”