I AM NOT AN UNREASONABLE PERSON. THE MERE FACT THAT MY ANGER WAS ONCE SEEN AS WORTHY OF DONNING THE SUFFIX “ISSUES” IS BLATANTLY SEXIST, EVEN IF I DID ONCE THROW CHAIRS AT PEOPLE WHEN I WAS IN FIRST GRADE. THIS IS MY WAY OF TAKING UP SPACE. I’M JUST NOW RECLAIMING THE SLUR USED AGAINST ME. THE OTHER DAY WHEN WALKING HOME FROM THE SUBWAY DRUNK I GOT SO MAD ABOUT THE FACT THAT I’M ATTRACTED TO MY BARBER THAT I KICKED A BEER BOTTLE LIKE IT WAS ELON MUSK. SOMEONE’S CAR APPEARED, COLLIDING WITH THE BOTTLE AT THE DESCENT OF ITS ARC, AND WHILE SPEEDWALKING AWAY AS THE CAR CHASED ME IN REVERSE ALL I COULD THINK WAS “AT LEAST NOW I HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT”. THE MEN I LIKE ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. AS WE APPROACH THE ISSUES, ALLEGEDLY, THINGS I’VE PICTURED DURING ORGASM FLASH LIKE HORROR MOVIE JUMP CUTS. I NEED A PUNCH CARD FOR EVERY TIME I’M ASKED IF I WAS MOLESTED. WHEN I GET PANICKY THE THING INSIDE ME IS LIKE AN INVERTED RAPE, MAKING THE WORLD DIZZY AND FLATTEN AS IT DROWNS OUT ALL SOUND. LAST TIME IT HAPPENED I TOOK A KLONOPIN WITH VODKA, WATCHED THE OFFICE AND WROTE AN ALMOST COHERENT POEM TO CALM DOWN. I COULDN’T LET A MAN INSIDE ME EVEN IF I WANTED TO: I’M NOT SURE IF VAGINISMUS WAS THE CHICKEN OR THE EGG. I’M LIKE ARTEMIS’ HUNTERS WHO I LOVED FROM PERCY JACKSON. MY FISTS CLENCH SO TIGHT THAT THEY HOLD ONLY ARROWS.