Kiss Her Once for Me

by Alison Cochrun

My social anxiety isn’t about a fear that people will be mean to me. It’s a far more nuanced kind of mindfuckery, a deep-seated conviction that every social interaction is a test I’m predetermined to fail.

to both hate your parents and desperately want their love at the same time. To still, at twenty-five, get sucked into little fantasies where they show up one day, sober and sorry, and finally acknowledge all the times you had to tuck yourself into bed.

“I think marriage is just promising to love someone as long as you can for as best you can. I think relationships can be exactly what they’re supposed to be,” she says, eyes still on the snow, “even if they only last for one year, or five years, or even just for one day. The good parts of the time you spent with a person don’t go away simply because the relationship ends.”

Jack is open and warm and kind. Dylan is… a burned marshmallow, apparently.

I guess maybe that’s how it works in families who love each other unconditionally: you can fight without fear of losing them and be honest without consequences or repercussions.

“I don’t believe that we should surrender our agency because we think things are meant to be,” she clarifies. “But I do believe some people belong in our lives. Do you remember how we met?”

But your trauma is something that happened to you; it’s not who you are.