Language is like eating ice cream, with a fork.
I apologize to another person for forgetting their birthday
and wonder if it’s possible to forget something you never actually knew.
People are always asking me how I am, apparently expecting me to know. I don’t say: the illusion of honesty can build the most impressive wall.
I am a chain-link fence. Everyone sees the whole—not the holes.
I am trying to pinpoint when I decided it was okay to not fully exist.
What makes us human, I guess, is our ability to hate (ourselves).
Or maybe, that’s just what makes me (a woman).
This piece is dedicated to survivors of sexual assault.
