Fangirl (2025)

I could say I had a bad crush at age fifteen. I could say I fell in love hard — like, bruised knees and bloody knuckles against the pavement kind-of-hard — for a man I haven’t met (yet?). I could say I’ve Googled his handwriting. I could say I’ve surrendered to the all-consuming pleasure of longing. I could say I am the monster, the man-eater. I could say, after all these years, I’m still in the chokehold. I could say I’ve turned feral obsession into art. I could say this is desire performing itself performing itself. I could say I am performing both intellectual subject and hysterical object.

Or, I could just say I’m a fangirl. 

Then what? What do I have to say for myself? 

What do I have left to say?