I Was a Teenage Slasher

by Stephen Graham Jones

When your dad dies, whenever in life you are, you realize that you’ve either got to hold yourself up, now, or just start falling and falling.

We all want to hide, don’t we? To not have to be constantly navigating between our true self and people’s expectations twenty-four seven?

It’s six minutes of my life, tops, but some memories you don’t measure in minutes or miles, but by how much of yourself is still in that moment.