youthjuice

by E.K. Sathue

When you look good, you are good. You know?”

I already know this bitch is evil

Horror enabled your life to change. Tragedy thrust you from before to after. I would emerge from the rubble as the person I was meant to be.

subway. I didn’t know what kind of woman I was, but I knew what woman I never wanted to be—the one who wore everyone’s face. The one who was no one so therefore she was your wife, your mother, your ex. What I needed was an identity.

They were lost in their hatred, a hatred extra fierce because it came entwined with ancient, rooted love.

My skin feels too tight and I can sense myself aging, the seconds counting to death. I am still young, but for how long? And I am no longer the kind of young I once was.

Could they not have known? I think about Mona. You can know without knowing, I reason. That doesn’t absolve you.

But all of life is one great tragedy for a woman. You’re born, you have a brief, shining moment when you’re in control, you matter, you age, you die. Each passing day is a small death that prepares you for the end.

bit depressing mate