When We Were Bright and Beautiful

by Jillian Medoff

He doesn’t see danger until it’s too late.

There’s a fine line, I’ve come to realize, between loving someone and suffocating her.

My point is, you can have everything and still not have enough.

It was a confusing experience, to love someone who lets you down, over and over.

I’m giddy with worry.

Cover yourself, Cassie. Keep yourself in check, Cassie. Be pretty, be smart; be good. For Christ’s sake, Cassie, be anything but what you are.

If you have no fear, you have nothing to lose; you act recklessly and without restraint.

How much will I hate myself in the end? Fuck it.

We express what we feel in real time because we believe, mistakenly, that unburdening ourselves will stop the tumult, or at least help us make sense of it.

What are your feelings? she asks. “Sometimes, I feel rage, sorrow, and desperation. Other times, I feel love, affection, and adoration.”

What I don’t tell her is that my feelings are so deep they’re deadly, and I feel all of them, all at once, all the time. It’s too much to bear so I try to feel nothing.

Our feelings dominate us, push us forward, make us dizzy, desperate. Our feelings reduce us to want. Our feelings clarify there is no turning back. We spend one night together.

I know, better than most, that anyone is capable of anything. Tap deeply enough, and you’ll find we’re all monsters below the surface.