Sensitive material in this essay: Mention of rape/sexual assault.
By Stephanie Santore
I can't be in public places because of you. I can't tolerate large crowds....
Isn’t it amazing how humans have the capacity for self-expression and creativity, no matter what? How art is so often born of brutal circumstances? How survival is contingent upon the making of that art?
The neighbors who lost their daughter never had another biological child, but four years later they adopted a two-year-old out of foster care, a boy who had been abused.
I wouldn't have been able to dance like this if I were still in my relationship. It made my boyfriend uncomfortable when I was too close to other guys, which made me uncomfortable.
All of this is to say, I remember what it's like to be in the midst of crazy amounts of fucking up. I remember how good it feels to make mistakes, and how awful.
