My Body Only Feels Right When It Isn’t My Own
I want to inhabit a form that doesn’t define me; I want to inhabit a form in a way that lets me define it.
Bend It Like BeckhamBend It Like Beckham
Who Was That Man? A Present for Mr. Oscar WildeIn the Dream House
Stone Butch Blues
Freaky FridayBend It Like Beckham
Ocean’s 8Ocean’s 8Ocean’s 8
Ocean’s 8Christine and the Queens
Little WomenOcean’s 8The Argonauts
Michael Elias is a writer of prose, poetry, essays, plays, and anything in-between. You can find them published in Homologylit, Gold Flake Paint, Jewish News Detroit, The Niche, Harana Poetry, Pass The Mic, and elsewhere. They are currently studying comparative literature, history, and arts at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
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More in this series
I’ll go through the egg-freezing procedure that will give me the chance of maybe, one day, having a child.
I do not believe in a soul but these past six months of illness, I am guilty of dislocating, of clinging to magic. Of wanting relief. Of being sick of being sick.