All the Dangerous Things

by Stacy Willingham

The truth is, people love violence—from a distance, that is. Anyone who disagrees is either in denial or hiding something.

chugging caffeine, making her rounds, spreading the latest office gossip like a jacked-up journalist, reveling in the fact that she knew first.

it reminds me of those people who buy the exact same dog when their other one dies. Instead of trying to grieve and move on, try something new, they instead decide to just replace it entirely and recreate their former life. Pretend that nothing even happened.

We always think things are our fault. We always feel the need to apologize: For being too much or too little. Too loud or too quiet. Too driven or too content.

the weight of motherhood that seems to be ever-present throughout our entire lives from the very moment we’re given our first doll.