Eric LaRocca

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

I’d sooner swallow wet concrete than let him call me his or dare to call him mine.

I haven’t thought of him much since it first happened—since the night when I first pulled his teeth, plucked his fingernails, and organized them accordingly; as if they were broken remnants, artifacts in the museum of our love: a gallery of yellowing antiquity.

There were many things I imagined doing to him: cracking him open as if he were some expensive delicacy imported from a faraway land and gorging on his entrails until my stomach was fit to burst.

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

“What have you done today to deserve your eyes?”

11:10:01 It took me years to understand what he actually meant

11:10:08 Our eyesight—among other things—is a gift that we take for granted

I think all of us feel empty most of the time and we merely pretend to fill the vacuum with laughter, crying, apologies—anything to make us feel human.

There’s a reason objects burn up when they fall to earth like gruesome angels—a reason other than the obvious one. Asteroids the size of armored cars narrow to mere pebbles in a matter of seconds. It’s because the planet is a carnivore and just wants to be fed. People want that as well. People like to eat other people.
I spent so many years forgetting I had teeth, too.

You and I are better off without each other.
If we stay together, we’ll only hurt one another