Decades after learning to hand over my physical autonomy to others, I am coming back into my own body — In childhood photos of me, I recognize the kid, but don’t recognize myself. Either I am dissociating now, or was dissociating then. Or both. The child has an invisible frown plastered on her face, posing as no-nonsense-ness. On rare occasions, she smiles at the camera, but the smile is cautious…

Or so I’ve been told by a guy I didn’t sleep with — There are a few places that are bound to absorb the odor of rotten utterances. Twitter. The comments section of pretty much any public figure or newspaper. And Instagram DMs. For the most part, I have given the first two a rest. I’m not a massive ‘grammer, either. But I…

Using situations instead of hierarchy — When I think about people close to me, I encounter a thick fog, oblivious to anything on the other side. I don’t know what it means to be “close” anymore. If you ask me who I speak to the most, I can think of the top two people. If you…

A poem —

A poem —

A poem — How can I put this? Today, I can’t seem to get a grasp on how things. Are. How things are. How do I feel? To answer that question, I have to ask how my life feels. How everything feels. To connect dots that don’t want to be connected. It seems…

A poem —

A poem —

A poem —