I’m with HJ and S, studying in the library at our school. I scroll through Facebook and notice a series of posts by AM, racking up, as always, hundreds of likes. They are a series of poems, each a horrifying portrait of me: my insecurities, ugliness, inconsistencies and secrets laid bare through AM’s eyes, which have looked at me long and hard and deep, which I let in willingly as though there is no key, there is a security guard, finicky, picky, jaded from birth and secretly scared.
“X, with a slightly liberal slant”
“X, with a slightly conservative slant”
“X, victimizing herself through her relationship with her parents”
It doesn’t matter that it was wrong to do: the poems are not mean so much as they are mocking. It is all true. It is all real.