I celebrated Pride this year by styling three outfits in the colours of the bi flag, sharing them on Instagram, and discussing queer issues in each post's caption. I touched on topics such as the intersection of Black and queer politics, bi erasure, and coming...
**Update: I made this into a video and read it aloud, if you want to hear the jokes from an actual human voice. The essay remains below!**
I recently got PRK surgery done on my left eye (yup, just the left). While prepping for it, I read approximately one million "My PRK Experience" blog posts, and I wanted to write my own for a couple reasons:
I haven't read any blog posts about getting just one eye done.
I thought it would be funny.
This seems better than me telling people I had laser eye surgery done, and them going, "like Lasik?" And me going, "haha yeah I got Laser Eyes," and them being confused, and me being like:
I hate glasses, I hate the way I look in them, I hate the way they press against the bridge of my nose, I hate how disgustingly dirty they get without me even noticing, I hate how many germs probably just hang out on them, having a goddamn party an inch away from my eyeballs.
This is why I typically wore contacts. Well, contact. Only one of my eyes needs a corrective lens. I diligently wore monthly contacts in my left eye for years. And I was careful with them, because I’ve read those freaky articles about flesh-eating amoebas devouring people’s corneas because they left their contacts in too long, and I have anxiety issues. I never slept in them, I kept them clean, and you know what? They were still a massive pain in the ass.
The tipping point: three times in two weeks, my contact fell out of my eye because my eye was so dry. Do you know how much monthly contacts cost? A six-pack of monthly contacts is, like, sixty bucks. So I literally cried out thirty hard-earned dollars. I was crying money. Enough was enough.
This was what compelled me to get expensive, excruciatingly painful elective surgery.
“…frequent and distressing nightmares, along with several other qualities of disturbed dreaming, such as changes in emotional intensity, increased bizarreness, or unusual character interactions, have been associated with specific psychological disorders, including depression…”
Some very emo writing for Father's Day 2k17, aka exactly 12 weeks since my dad became a spooky ghost. I used to write intimate essays like this all the time, and then I got super depressed and that stopped happening, but this is the first thing I've written in a while that I actually liked and wanted to share.