Mister Magic

by Kiersten White

all alcohol did was give people permission to be themselves.

“May we recover from how bad our parents fucked us up, and never find out how badly we’re fucking up our own children.”

“Oh, I know exactly how I’m fucking my girls up, because I’m making them into me. I look at them and I love them so much I want to eat them whole, and also they’re such little shits I want to strangle them. And they don’t care about either feeling, because they don’t care about my feelings, because I’m not a person to them.”

All I’ve wanted is for you to be better than I ever could have been. And that’s a terrible burden to place on a child, isn’t it?

Growing up isn’t inherently loss, it’s just change. Maybe she can’t taste sparkles anymore, but she has a lifetime of moments that feel like that. The first buds of spring after another long winter. Hanging suspended above a lake, about to release the rope swing. Good sex. Watching a student the first time they triumph at a new task. A perfectly ripe, sun-warmed blackberry bursting on her tongue. Linking fingers with someone who feels like home. She