By Jennifer Kelley
Standing outside Monticello the abode of my favorite genius, The darkness grabbed me by the ankles and tugged me under, It was the 8th grade trip to the East Coast my first time traveling without my parents. Instead, packed into the bus with my long-lost best friend and a handsome boy who would easily argue the other side of anything, you's think that I'd be in heaven – It came then, the Blackness though I did not yet know it's name and instead thought it to be my own heart's desire. Dragged me into the toilet, where, wretchingly, I tried to qualify to say on the bus. This longed-for dream further deferred as though having it would have ended something precious – decapitated a dream. I coughed and gagged but could provoke nothing – then told the chaperons that I'd thrown up and had to stay behind. But another girl convicted my fraud, proclaiming me un-vomited to the point that no one would let me remain behind. Again the separate feeling rebelled and rolled in my belly and I longed for that cool, solitary porcelain – while I stepped inside the inventions of dreams compelled by the crowd, even if I was not one of them.
This piece is from The Feminist Toilet #1. To go back and read more, click here.