Results for: dead to me
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Me, My Doppelgänger, and I
“Your truth is always your truth, whether said or silent. It just might not be the idea of your truth that somebody else has in their mind.”
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I Used to Break Into Houses
“I craved that isolation, that feeling of utter aching loneliness that I found inside houses where I did not belong.”
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Every Trans Girl I Meet Is From the Future: Finding a Bereft Sisterhood
I find myself preemptively mourning the transgenerational communities and cliques and cults and clubs and covens of girls like me that could be and may not be.
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Sad Enough Songs: On Julien Baker and Depression
Depression is not forever because it always ends, and depression is forever because it always comes back. It won’t work if I only want to stay on the days when my brain breaks through the muck. Turn Out The Lights is a meditation on wanting to stay on the very worst days.
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How to Dismantle Your Imposter Syndrome One Episode of Murder She Wrote at a Time
Before Angela Lansbury told women they were partly to blame for sexual assault, she helped me with my imposter syndrome.
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Hello, Goodbye: From Faking My Taste for Crushes to Falling in Love with Music for Real
Then I met Summer, a junior counselor at the Christian summer camp I went to between sixth and seventh grade. Summer wore a different band shirt almost every day: Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Led Zeppelin. She told me she loved classic rock, and without hesitating, I said “me too.”
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The Mammalian Dive Reflex
I changed. But it was a gradual process, in the way a forest becomes stone. Petrified forest of a body.
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Line Breaks for Resistance: How Black Poetry Lets Us Rescue Ourselves
If Alice Walker once said “hard times require furious dancing,” then hard times call for reading poetry, particularly black poets. Follow zaynab’s journey in reconnecting with black poetry as a means of daily survival and understand why reading the work of black poets can enhance our collective understandings of what it means to cultivate and sustain resistance.
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Orlando Made Me Love You, Dammit!
He shouted “Repent” since the sign was not sufficient, I guess. I found myself going up to him while topless Amazons danced in his face. I found myself going up to him to say this: “I love you. I have nothing but love for you.” I couldn’t help myself.
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Digital Mixtapes and Protests: Oh, To Be A Queer Black Millennial
“For a moment, I forgot about the summer of 2015. I forgot about the panic I experienced, the insomnia, the depression. We watched the new season of Orange is the New Black together and by the end of episode 12, it suddenly all came back.”
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Not Quite There Yet: Safety and Progress In Light of the Pulse Shooting
“The morning after the horrific shooting, and the days that followed, I understood part of my father’s fear. Animosity towards LGBTQ people has not gone the way of black and white T.V. sets, phone booths, or travel by horse and carriage. It was and is very much alive.”
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Mama Outsider: How I Learned the Definition of Obscene
“I was unstable and grieving and more suited for a patient friendship than the dramas of new love. But I loved her and in thirst, I acted unlovingly by climbing into a lap in which I wasn’t welcome. My behavior is the definition of obscene.”
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Mama Outsider: When Your Mother Thanks You for Keeping Your Baby
“Instead, I jump back into the mind of the girlish woman I was at 28, the one who didn’t know enough about the consequences for unacceptable motherhood to plunge headfirst into the fire. It has taken me much longer than my mother to see the gift of my own naiveté.”
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So, We’re Getting Married Now?
“Neither of us were comfy with the public spectacle of the thing, especially G. She didn’t like the thought of publicizing our private relationship. We also felt a bit blah about marriage itself, which can feel like an outdated institution. And there were practical worries, too — like how would we plan a big event, with so much on our plates?”
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Laying Down My Bullshit and Dancing at Dawn
“In Berlin people talk about it, expats especially, in hushed, reverent tones. The sound system, which is supposed to be one of the best in the world. The DJ acts you’ve never heard of with names like Fuck Buttons. And that magical moment in the morning when the blinds at Panorama Bar are yanked open and the suddenly-illuminated, all-night revelers start to cheer.”
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When Real Life’s Getting More Like Fiction Each Day
When I say I was obsessed with RENT, I mean obsessed. I grew straight out of American Girl Magazine into the world of wildly risqué musical theatre. My mother tended to encourage the things I was interested in, but this one… well, it baffled her a bit. How could a good church girl from the suburbs of Connecticut relate to this musical?
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Life, Death and Surrender: It’s Hard to Know When It’s Time to Say Goodbye
On losing a pet, resilience and vulnerability, human frailty and animal intelligence, and everything that goes into saying goodbye.
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Who Is It That Afflicts You?
Witchcraft, trials, death and the Devil: how the long road of history winds from 1692 Salem, MA to 2015.
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Melancholia In The Sunshine
“It isn’t until the summer, when the frost melts and the icee man comes calling and the pool is open and the yard (however ridden with stubborn weeds) starts to incubate natural life, that you realize the source of your woes isn’t dependent on the weather. It’s you. “
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Tales From The Driver’s Seat: 7 Actual Experiences I Had While Learning To Drive at 25
“He gave me “the benefit of the doubt” that traffic was indeed too rough to allow me, a braless 25-year-old nervously driving a station wagon, to shift over.”