CLIP SHOW: An Answer For Every “Why Are You Like This” Given Without Context
By @haleylazerface
See? It’s all about the misdirection
Are you gay? No.
What Does Sisterhood Look Like to You?
No Parents. No Rules. We are the gods of our own destiny.
The Self-Importance of Being a Goddamn Hick
Only I know the way the telephone wires hang in the air, weaving together like a cat's cradle between stiff, straight brown fingers in the purple light of morning. I find myself driving the same pavement rivers that cut through grass and more pavement and thinking, thinking I need to get out before I get stuck here forever. I’m it too late to leave because I used to say I hate afraid it’s this place, and it’s only a quarter truth. I mostly just resent myself for the time I spend here. I don’t understand, while at the same time completely understanding, why I’m still here. I’m still caught between the grays of resisting roots and the fear of growing wings. Only I know the ways the trees cut through the horizon as I drive myself home.
Hey it’s like that one episode of Bojack Horseman when...
Sharing a can of Coke Zero like a cigarette with my mom outside my grandma’s nursing home bedroom. Two eldest daughters who convince themselves that they will never be enough.
There’s a Water Line Directly Under That Fucker Otherwise We Would Have Pulled It Up Years Ago.
There was something off about the shocks of yellow in the juniper bush out front. It had survived 15 years of hacking at the mess which was the front lawn, yet now somehow, was dying.
Is It Gay If It’s Just You?
I have become an aging couple in a bad movie, trying to figure out why I am with me. Trying to figure out what’s best for me. Trying to unlearn that I am not just a spirit but also flesh and bone, a physical form. Trying to experience the love for myself that I am not allowed to feel. Trying to learn how to advocate for myself. Trying to let my rage become fuel again, not just carbon gas, and letting myself breathe in. Learning how to speak again.
Bone-Dry
I wanna see the desert this year. I’ve never had the dry heat of the sun beaming down on my skin. All I’ve felt is the weighted blanket of tree breath in my lungs, heavy like syrup. I want to know what rebirth feels like outside of my body. What the endurance of life feels like. What it feels like to be something else because you need to survive. I want all these feelings to be validated by the land, the land that death’s bony hand has been crushed under.
A Neutral View Of The Accident
I would like to thank my parents for their endless support, patience, and most importantly for letting Tess and me destroy what used to be the dining room. I would like to thank all my friends who were kind enough to read my rough drafts and let me rant on the phone about handcrafting Barbie knee-high converse and how stupid typeface is. I would like to thank the Kilpatricks for letting me borrow Barbie clothes (and a tiny toilet!!). And most of all, I would like to thank my sister for looking me in the eye every time I tried to quit this goddamn zine, telling me to get back to work, and for the constant reassurance that “Yeah, that looks good, Scout.�