Acts of Desperation

by Megan Nolan

I love myself in love. I find my feelings fascinating and human, for once can sympathise with my own actions.

I was young enough to be compelling to them by virtue only of my youth, standing in as a monument to whatever things they felt they no longer had access to.

Even if my mother had never uttered a word about her body or mine, I think I would still feel this way when I come home, the same claustrophobic fury under that shared roof, the two of us so close together. I came from her, she made this body-thing I hate and love so much. I resent her for producing it; I’m mortified I have made such poor use of it. How dare you? I want to scream at her, on the one hand; I love you so much! I’m sorry, on the other.

This quote almost sent me into an existential crisis...

It was painful that he loved me so much and wanted things for me I knew I would never have and never deserve. I owed him so much and I would never repay it. I wished I could somehow make him understand this so he could give up on me.

There’s something about a beautiful boy’s face – not handsome, or attractive, or cute, but beautiful. Why are they so moving, when I see so many beautiful girls every day? It isn’t fair, I know. A boy who is beautiful seems to have pushed through the mud and cement of his gender. His beautiful face seems carved out of the rawest materials.