POLLYANNA-ISH I: JUST BREATHING ISN’T LIVING
Pollyanna-ish is a column about the process of becoming (undefinable). Exploring the intersection between life and art, these essays will explore and intermingle different aspects…
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Don’t @ Me (An Interior Monologue): March
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a cis, demisexual woman navigating the world in a nontraditional body? In this ongoing column,…
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Big Red
CW: animal slaughter It is a gruesome alchemy that turns a life into a meal, and I have performed it; I have killed. Big…
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We Were Like Sisters
We were like sisters, you and I. And this, while we already had sisters. Lots of them; too many between us. A girl can’t…
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Dreams That My Diary Unfortunately Remembers
Michael Jackson had died as a young child while being minded by an elderly alcoholic. She left the crime scene intact inside her house…
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DON’T @ ME (AN INTERIOR MONOLOGUE): FEBRUARY
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a cis, demisexual woman navigating the world in a nontraditional body? In this ongoing column,…
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The Real Girl
I was the tiny child taken straight to hospital in Dublin. I was the tiny child with drugs, concentrated rays, no hair, enduring the…
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before it happened i wrote it down like this, or: something felt at fifteen and turned into a list at twenty-five
1. walk to the beach. make small fires. the fire makes me jealous but also more determined. 2. he said: a pool of flesh,…
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Don’t @ me (an interior monologue): January
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a cis, demisexual woman navigating the world in a nontraditional body? In this ongoing column,…
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