Interesting Facts about Space

by Emily R. Austin

I’m grocery shopping, or out minding my own business, a little voice in my head reminds me that I’ve made my mom cry before. I wince at fleeting recollections of myself being terrible.

The flowers are lilacs,

The washroom was located in exactly the setting I suspect all serial killers frequent. A Greyhound bus station.

real

For both embraces, I am consumed with concern that I have BO.

so real T T

“ghosts aren’t any more scary than people are. Think about it. Ghosts just used to be people. Some people are really scary, like murderers, and bullies. There’s no reason to single out ghosts for being scary when everyone can be just as scary as a ghost.”

Despite being gay, I used to think about boys a lot. I wanted boyfriends when I was a teenager.

which solidifies my belief that Greyhound bus stations are just fronts for hell mouths.

Fuck. I am in love with Polly.

my parasite possesses me. I interrupt Polly’s silent, extended staring to say, “You love me, don’t you?”

“I knew it. You sucker. You love me.” She cackles and I do not say it back.

I’ve dated girls before who told me gay people have two adolescences. The first is the one we’re taught to have, where we suppress ourselves.

We have our second adolescence late, after we realize who we are.

I think I’m a bad person.

I’m always fighting this impulse to find people who might love me. I make dating profiles and meet up with them to validate myself.

I copy a block of writing I keep saved in my Notes app and I text it to Polly.

NOOOO