You get a sick thrill when you stumble across a website that has been cobbled together to provide “solace” for people who are mourning a stranger. You can read through the comment section and see the way raw grief paralyzes grammar. You can look at the last names and piece a story together: there's his cousin,… Continue reading On Being the Stranger
I live in the Midwest but I'm not from here at all. I'm an East Coast baby, a move-around-a-lot baby. I lived abroad as a child, and before I was a teenager, the only place I really put feelers into the soil was the little town of Lenoir, North Carolina. And then once I was… Continue reading The Wilds of the Midwest
When you're alone, you have to pretend like you're in a movie. You have to, or you'll go crazy. If you don't see yourself as the sweet, sad heroine of some beautifully-wrought journey, you'll start asking the dangerous questions:Why did I come here?What am I trying to find?Why am I not afraid? I've been writing an… Continue reading Advice for the Wandering Girl
Week three continues. Tomorrow I'm going back to one of my many childhood homes to lurk around the neighborhood and wince at the family living there and drink up nostalgia.
I dreamed that deep in the forest preserve, a man shot my brother. I dreamed you said you never loved me, and you clutched your phone. I wrenched it away from you. I didn't want you to text another girl. I dreamed I was running up stairs. I dreamed I had an older brother, and we… Continue reading Thirteen Nightmares