Such Sharp Teeth

by Rachel Harrison

Heard from whom? I always hated this small-town-grapevine nonsense. That’s something I love about the city. The anonymity. No one knows who you are, and no one gives a shit about your business. It’s a beautiful thing.

YUP

“We understand each other. With our pasts. Everything we’ve been through. Everyone else, they want to judge girls like us. Hate us. Keep us. Either call us sluts or call us brave. Blame daddy issues for the choices we make. Blame us for the choices made for us.” She pauses to laugh, to ash her cigarette. “They don’t know anything, do they? They’ll never know.” Girls like us.

I think she’s trying to tell me that I should be grateful for my trauma because it’s somehow positively contributed to my personal development. There’s no winning. The trauma is either your fault or it’s a gift. It’s either You should have done this to stop it or Look what good has come of it! If you don’t get over it, why can’t you get over it? Why can’t you get past it or learn how to cope? Or if you do find some way to move on with your life in a socially acceptable manner, then you’re so brave and so strong, and aren’t you amazing? Let’s applaud you for moving forward while there’s a knife at your back.

Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time, thinking Mom and Scarlett were weak for seeking companionship, for a hand to hold through it all. It takes fucking guts to open yourself up to someone. To love someone. To hope for their love in return.

I’m resilient. My strength doesn’t come from the bad things that have happened to me. It defies those things. It’ll be all right. No matter what, I’ll be all right.