At 15, I'd only touched the tip of the heartbreak iceberg. But if I could blast Liz Phair in my bedroom -- and learn how to swear with her emphatic nonchalance -- I might be OK.
By starving, I was killing myself to be anything but the person I was.
late bloomer
Really, what was wrong with me? Nothing. OK, something: Lack of information. Crippling fear. Miscommunication with boys. So actually, a few things.
I wish more kids would leave the most oppressive setting they’ll likely face in their lifetime, and realize that life really starts after high school.
The metal-loving author of a new book explains how the media -- and many parents -- have gotten it wrong when it comes to 'dark' teen dabblings like gaming, Slayer, and Satanism.
Fine, one is a Morrissey song, but whatever, same diff. THEY MESSED WITH MY HEAD, MOM.
Maybe we feed on misery because sometimes, it’s the best way to actually feel something, and this might be the most depressing point that “Heathers” has to make.
high school
In 1986, when I attended the first high school reunion we had, I was actually shunned and denied access to pre-paid chicken.
I can honestly say that I’ve never wished that I’d been born a different race. It was only the illusive magic of beauty I wanted, beauty like my mother proudly possessed, the kind of physical aesthetic that transcended and bewitched.
Let's all clutch our pearls and bemoan the state of the youth today! Snore. Being in my early 20s doesn't automatically make me the protagonist of a Judd Apatow movie.
From fourth grade on, I looked like I was about 25 years old.
My parents said it was a phase. I grew irate, and furiously insisted that it was not a phase. It was totally a phase.
Sorry girls, isn’t for you.