I can’t listen to music without a wellspring of tears exploding from my sockets. I can’t watch the movies or television that I love. I try to read and the letters dance around the page like they are on fire.
If you were to saw off the top of my head, blow off the dust, sop up the blood and gore and somehow stop me from screaming, you’d find a young girl waving up at you with messy hair and chapped lips, just desperate to be liked.
I was on the swim team in middle school. I conquered my car sickness reading books like Karleen Koen's Through a Glass Darkly on the half hour drive from the east side of Providence, where I lived, to practice in Barrington. That was about all I accomplished.