Interesting Facts about Space

by Emily R. Austin

One of the perks of being a lesbian is that it is less critical for me to vet whether my date will kill me. I tend to fear I am the person in the equation who dates should be wary of. I have been giving my address out to strange women, willy-nilly.

I worry that I am a shell for something bad. That deep down, in the spot where most people keep their souls, I keep a weird little bug. I picture him there, leaning on the apple core of my soul, crunching on what remains of what’s good of me. I struggle to stomach sincerity, or to express any authentic emotion, because everything feels insincere when you suspect that deep down, in the chasm of yourself, the most sentient part of you is a little ill-intentioned monster.

doubt it even occurs to Edna to wonder if people have parasites. I bet her soul is a big red apple with no bites taken out of it. She

Sometimes, when I have a nice interaction with someone, I hope I never see them again. Occasionally, I have a nice chat with a cashier, for example. I leave the store thinking, I hope I never see them again. I avoid their register if I do. Sometimes, when I visit extended family, like my mom’s cousins, or a great aunt, I think it’s a shame they saw me now at my age. I think it might have been better for them to have last seen me as a kid. I think seeing me now might ruin the memory of when I was little. I often stop texting people I’m seeing after having a nice time with them. I wish I could have one nice interaction with everyone and then disappear.

That rings true, but I feel like it’s more than that for me. I realize I’m gay, but I don’t realize much of who I am beyond that. I feel like I’m still missing some crucial information that I need to fully form myself. I feel half-developed. I’m worried that if I were cut open, I’d see all my organs were half-made. I think I’m missing parts. I