“Do you want to know what it is?” he asks, excitedly. “Do you really want to know?”
Creative nonfiction essays
It tasted bitter. It tasted like growing up.
I had to face the unsettling fact that my phone seemed capable of handling certain aspects of my life better than I could myself.
Write a formula you could use to calculate the number of ova you have left.
What Gabe did for me (and what I now understand he did for so many) was to refuse to leave me behind.
I begin to break, slowly and without fanfare.
Em and I spent that summer testing limits we never dared push before.
The Journey of Broken Yellow Chains
I trick myself into believing something’s real by putting my hands all over it.
Whenever a new wave of mortification overtakes me, I capture the current and use it to fuel gender dreams.