#rejectionist

23?

I left all the things I thought I could be to be the one thing I wanted. And when I got here I kept leaving, keep leaving, and what would I write about, anyway, if I ever knew what it was like to be one person, to love one person, to stand in a single place and say At last here I am, I am home.

I want you to be a fucking beacon of white-hot rage burning so bright no one around you can miss it. Whatever it takes to stoke the fire. I want us to be so loud and so angry and so visible and so terrifying that we cannot be mistaken for anything other than the future, a future that looks like us. In all our kinds of bodies, in all our kinds of love. Waiting for the time when none of us are angry anymore because the only thing left is the world we want to live in. When the hardest thing any of us will know is teaching ourselves how to live without anger altogether. Until then: whatever it takes and fucking fight.

In real life you just get into fights with people about books and it is the greatest thing ever and you can tell that way if you like them, how they fight about the book and what books they will go to bat for, and how they react when you say "I don't read books by men anymore really." . . . and then when we find a book we both love together it will be an extra kind of triumph, and we will go into the night like friends.

Both the older people had just gotten their MFAs. "You know why I think the MFA is so popular now," the man said to us, "I think people are trying to find a way to sit around and tell stories. I think that's all any of us wants, is a place to tell stories to each other."