I’m realizing that a ceasefire isn’t just about putting down the weapons; it’s about learning an entirely new language. For years, my internal dialogue was fluent in “Critique.” It was a dialect of not enough, too much, not yet. I spoke to myself in a way I would never dream of speaking to a stranger […]
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I have this recurring daydream—a very specific, very digital wish. I wish that a holographic “before” photo floated constantly above my head, like a green plumbob on a Sims character. I want it there when I’m at the grocery store, or sitting in a meeting, or meeting someone new. I have this deep-seated urge for
I used to think of my body as a project I could eventually use for revenge. I had this specific vision of a “transformation” that would act as a final, silent weapon. I imagined walking into a room—a high school reunion, a grocery store in my hometown, a family gathering—and being so “perfect” that the
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She never could lose the weight, and she never understood why. She spent her years trying to get fit, skinny, or “healthy” for everyone and everything else. She was performing a role she never auditioned for. She wanted the doctors to stop blaming her biology for her every ailment. She wanted to prove to her
