Still Missing

by Chevy Stevens

Avoiding this shit is like closing a door on a raging river. Little trickles of water start coming through the cracks, and next thing you know, the door blows off. Now that I’m letting some of the water through, will the door come crashing in? If I unleash everything that’s inside me, will I go floating down the river with it?

Interesting that hardly anyone asks how I feel now, not that I’d tell them. I just wonder why nobody cares much about the after—just about the story. Guess they figure it stops there. I wish.

Running around up there in all those girlie dresses The Freak liked made me feel so exposed. One thing you can say for the way I dress now: nobody’s tempted to look underneath.

Mom would never get that lack of affection is abuse.

I remember reading once that if you have a bird that’s lived in a cage for a long time and you leave the cage door open, the bird won’t leave right away. I never understood that before.