Rebel With a Cause

My first rebellion was at fourteen, and it was all about sneaking out and getting transformationally high. I wasn't trying so much to be a bad girl (no weird piercings and black lipstick for me, and barely even a fuck you to my folks) as I was trying to connect and feel at one with the…

love, enough

[fiction short] An hour before I am supposed to leave, I start crying. I've had that fluttery, controlling, rigidity-soaked fear for two days now, and underneath that there are always two forms of grief - the actual grief, which hurts, and the tender grief about being so hard on myself, that the New Age Buddhists call radical…

To Thine Own Self, Be True AF

My guess is that if Shakespeare were alive today, he'd be all about not giving a fuck what others thought. (You know, in the healthy, anti-codependent, non-sociopathic way.) Let me declare, just to gain even more credibility here, that I used to be sort of obsessed with astrology. Give me a break, I was fifteen. And though I…

Zoloft in High School

somewhere in 2003, a girl   I am seventeen years old, and I am depressed, and I think it's a cliche. I want so much to be good, but I cannot outrun, outdrink, outfuck this fear, and this fear is making me bad. I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Warning: May…

Little Children

How often I feel like a confused child, looking skyward for guidance, desperately wanting to be told, "this is why things are the way that they are. This is what you must do." There is no such explicit guidance, except maybe in a god or higher power, but even from that we are never really…

Transportation

Nothing transports like a song. Nothing evokes such memory. Like Proust's famous madeleines, the hearing of one song has transported me back twelve years and sixty-two miles away, to a world I no longer inhabit, to best friends and lovers I no longer know, to places I will probably never see again. At nineteen I bought…