Hip Hop was my first love, and it didn’t love me back.

A friend told me I would find other people like me at college, and I thought she meant “people whose feelings embraced the world like a corset.”

Here is the problem with the apocalypse: it’s boring. And exhausting, and lonely.

What have I offered the uncles I’ve sought out, and how will I know whether I’ve held up my end of the bargain?

I’ve been told that to understand my feelings, I must first let myself feel them.

Content Warning: Self-harm, Suicide