My Dark Vanessa

by Kate Elizabeth Russell

Mom says dwelling in your feelings is no way to live, that there will always be something to be upset about and the secret to a happy life is not to let yourself be dragged down into negativity. She doesn’t understand how satisfying sadness can be; hours spent rocking in the hammock with Fiona Apple in my ears make me feel better than happy.

I try to hide how happy this makes me feel by rolling my eyes, but his words break my chest wide open and leave me helpless. There’s nothing stopping him from reaching in and grabbing whatever he wants. I’m special. I’m special. I’m special.

Mom presses her lips together, holding back a bigger smile. “First love is so special,” she says. “You’ll never forget it.”

There are things he needs to believe in order to live with himself, and it would be cruel for me to label these as lies.

He made it seem like I was stupid when he’s the one who didn’t even know who Britney Spears was.

Break his heart? I try to imagine myself having that power, holding his heart, mine to abuse, but even when I picture it pulsing and pumping in my hands, it’s still the boss of me, leading me around, jerking me this way and that with me clinging and unable to let go.

I’m starting to understand that the longer you get away with something, the more reckless you become, until it’s almost as if you want to get caught.

The excuses we make for them are outrageous, but they’re nothing compared with the ones we make for ourselves.