became a cult confessional. It was for people who had been drained and overwritten. The girl whose boss took credit for her code. The nonbinary artist whose mentor plagiarized their sketchbook. The father whose ex-wife turned the kids against him not with lies, but by selectively amplifying his worst moments while vacuuming up his tenderness.
She wrote: The sea slug doesn't feel evil. It feels hungry. It feels the emptiness where the other's sperm was and calls that emptiness 'mine.' Don't wait for the sucker to apologize. They think the void inside them is the shape of you. It's not. It's the shape of what they stole. sperm suckers - mayli
She hit publish. Then she turned off her phone, walked to the aquarium, and watched a pair of sea hares dance in the dark water—each one trying, beautifully, horribly, to suck the other dry. became a cult confessional
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