Ari Eastman

Writing about mental illness has never been something I’ve shied away from. In fact, it’s one of the things I’m most proud of.

Bravery is doing what you must,
is doing what you have to
even when you wish you could bow out.

You wake up and you go to sleep and everything in between resembles the day before. It’s not boring, exactly. But it’s safe.

I guarantee there’s nothing you need to tell me that can’t be expressed over a text or email. 

Did you know if you dream about him five nights in a row,
your heart becomes a time machine?

Is this betrayal? Is he stealing from you?

There are things inside me I am dying to scream. But instead, I’m whispering.

I’ve got a fever. And the only prescription is more Peter.

Wine pairs great with cheese. Stupid Brad is lactose intolerant. 

It’s about dragons and incest, right? Also, Ed Sheeran is in it.

I know you asked for space, but that’s not how this works with you and me. You don’t call the shots.

It feels like people have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. Like all our exes, our former flames, the loves we were so desperate for to come back are all in a secret club that we have no knowledge of.

You don’t want to be my inspiration. I didn’t want you to be either. But here we are.

My love language is making music playlists. You’re welcome.

A love like yours is rare, and something like that doesn’t disappear over time.

Remember? I loved you first.

I think the part I’ve been saving for you died.

Some days, the hurt is screaming in my throat.