The Middle

High/hard femme. She/her pronouns. White. Queer. Have been questioning sexuality labels since 2010, still haven’t figured out what feels right. I primarily see myself having romantic relationships with other queers. The body is a different story. I like to write about sex. Still searching for ways to translate my feelings surrounding my gender identity. I think complicated relationships to food are very real and interesting and prevalent and am constantly observing my own strangeness when it comes to providing my body with this basic necessity. I’m in love with language. I used to finish entire books in a night but somewhere along the way I believe a combination of depression/anxiety/overly exasperated LD symptoms made this love of mine feel like a struggle to access. I’m always waiting and hoping to find my way back. I love academia too but it doesn’t always love me back/ reciprocate my love. This makes me love it harder. Someday I want to be published. Someday I want to be published. Someday I want to be published. I say again and again in case I forget, because my expected gender role has taught me to abandon ambition like a full plate of food; sometimes I forget to be hungry.

Sometimes I don’t ever want to stop thinking. I know it’s good for the body and brain to rest, I say to myself all the time, but this never really amounts to actual desire. Even when the body is still, the mind insists on motion. I exhaust myself daily but I love the process. Sleeplessness feels like a natural state of being. Often I find myself wishing time moved differently. I love my journals more than anything in this world, with the exception of other humans and creatures. I will always have my current journal with me, along with 30+ various pens and pencils. I love to take my journal out on dates to the bar and draw or write until someone asks me about it. I love having other people write and draw in my journal; I like to see more than one voice on the same page.

I love to write about feminism, about gender and sexism, about education, about eco-literacy, about mass incarceration, about white fragility, about shame, about all the things I do not know, about all the things I do know, about queerness, about friendships, about journaling, about letter-writing, about tinder, about family, about abuse, about fear…. but I find the question of what I like to write about incredibly difficult to answer. I do not know yet what genre is, or what genre it is that I intent to write in…. I believe deeply in simultaneously intentional and unknowingly organic cross-pollination across genres.

I smoke too many cigarettes when I write but I’m in love with that too. Or maybe just addicted. Or in love with my own addiction? It’s up for debate, regardless I’m a human who winds up constantly picking the absent-minded deposits of ash from my clothes; my bag; my journal; my laptop, etc.

I’m hungry for someone to read and write with. What that looks like is up to you. I will personally and unconsciously edit my writing for grammar but will choose not to correct myself at points. I’ll never edit your grammar unless you specify a desire for it. If you are a self-proclaimed “stickler for grammar” then you should probably check yourself. If you need help understanding that statement, I’m down to talk about it. I care about your ideas, and I want people to care about mine.

Tell me what your favorite words are and why. I love plethora, multiplicity, and expansive. I love the phrase “vaster than empires, and more slow,” from the poem to his coy mistress by Andrew Marvel, but I love it because of a short story of the same title by Ursula K Le Guin. I’d be fascinated to know if individuals could read my writing and guess my other favorite words.


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