Going through puberty as an asexual person often felt like I was playing a board game and everyone had the instructions but me.
Why not form friendship around a love of good drink, openness, and a desire to treat each other with fairness?
How do we match our desires with our demands? I didn’t have the language to ask.
Even on my worst day as a writer, I’m closer to the creative life I dreamed of at eighteen than ever before.
I feel what I feel, and I cry in the shower with a beer, but the week before I turned thirty, I felt nothing.
“A smell of burning flesh fills the theatre. I was expecting the smell of blood—its rich, metallic, almost bitter-tasting organic scent.”