There’s a thought — or series of thoughts, really — that’s been trying to claw its way out of my brain and into the open air for a while now, but these are the kinds of thoughts that are so so hard to share.
When December started, the most surprising thing of all was that it felt like it had arrived quickly.
Marveling at the remarkable pace of the passage of time is pretty standard, but in a year that often felt hellish and brutal, I assumed that reaching the end wouldn’t have caught…
I often wonder who I might have been if I hadn’t come of age with the internet. Pretending, for a second, that many of my most cherished relationships aren’t owed to that very fact, I wonder what my relationships might have looked like in that alternate reality.
Today I am both elated and also little bit heartsick. Proud and also tired.
Yesterday I ran my first half marathon.
I am an unimpressive athlete. Any athleticism I might have possessed as a child was squandered through a life spent largely indoors…
For much of my life, I documented everything. Long, rambling journal entries begot long rambling entries in an AOL mailing list (LOL) which begot long rambling livejournal entries, and so on, and so on.
And then there was this blog. Fresh out of college and overwhelmed by the endless array…
If I never write another thing on this formerly exhaustive chronicle of my humdrum little life, I cannot let “Shrinking” be the end.
It is true that the incident in the park left me a little jumpier and a little more afraid. Months later it’s better, but still true. I don’t…
It feels like some kind of sick cosmic punishment for being the girl who refuses to be afraid of walking home at night, the girl who travels alone and will have none of your questions about whether or not she should. It feels as though some wretched higher power saw the defiance on my face and saw fit to put…
I. My parents instilled in me this underlying belief that things would always work out. During periods of depression, I watch this conviction recede from my horizon. The version of myself who stops feeling this, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, is a version with something…
Missing months on the blog kill me. Not because I’m worried that anyone’s wondering what’s happened to me or that anyone is anxiously awaiting my next deeply moving essay on clumsiness or whatever other bullshit I fill this space with.It breaks my heart because of how important it is to me to have this…
My friend Pham challenged me to do a thing. This is the beginning of that thing.