“Eye-fucking on the subway is strongly encouraged: today, tomorrow, and always.” And more wise words from me to myself, after the jump…
I’m not sure what convened the other day to tear the disordered gauze from my eyes, but, on an impromptu shopping trip, I managed to see myself in a more realistic light. And, in that light, I saw a sexless, hollow creature with nothing to grab at or touch, someone who looked like she was once again becoming a shell of herself.
On Sunday I Instagrammed a cry for help in the form of a drab coconut popsicle, the sad caption reading: my only friend. This dramatic statement is far from the truth, but in that moment, as everyone in NYC appeared deeply invested in something called the World Cup with their pals, and I sat alone in my apartment clogged with snot and overwhelming angst, it felt true.
The pain felt when realizing someone only talks to you when they’re sad is quite specific. It comes on slowly, until, suddenly, you’re faced with weighty questions re: what is friendship, in the vein of Seneca (but with decidedly more estrogen).
Reader Question: How do I navigate writing about my personal life without it affecting my personal life?
Revealing what I have on this site has been INCREDIBLY rewarding—which wasn’t even a consideration when I began. I think that was actually great because it made my voice authentic—I wasn’t trying to make anybody else feel anything.
Inspired by the brilliant Meh List published every week in The Sunday Magazine of The New York Times, I thought I’d start crafting my own, in a similar spirit to the Dear Diary posts.
Food is our first experience of love and comfort—quite literally, as we immediately bond with our mothers via breastfeeding or the like. I was once fully capable of feeding myself in a ‘normal’ manner, but then somewhere along the way I started to see myself as less deserving of that nourishment—which is to say, less deserving of love.
At a recent party, I noticed that five totally different women had gone the super neutral route with their outfits. Being me, I feel the need to explore it further–because a dress can never be just a dress, right?