Down the Drain

by Julia Fox

I feel miniature too, but not in an insignificant way. I feel small in a way that feels exciting, like I have yet to be discovered.

I want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself.

I’ve come to discover that girls are so much more colorful. The dull and sterile backdrop that had been my life is now this vibrant luminescent force field that guides me when I am lost, protects me when I’m in danger, and nurtures me when I need love.

“Drugs will give you wings to fly, but it’ll take away the sky.”

Being your ‘poopy’—” “It’s poupée,” he corrects me.

“Being smart never got anybody anywhere,” I tell him bluntly, my words coated in cynicism. “Look at how happy stupid people are!”

I can’t help but feel like I was so close to achieving my ultimate dream scenario. It feels like I played the lottery and got every number right except the very last one, instantly crushing any faith I had in life.