unrot your brain - by Kylee - plum pits

There was a time I devoured books like candy. Sometimes reading them as a pdfs, unable to wait for it as a gift. I kept notebooks full of weird facts and quotes I didn’t quite understand. I was the smart girl. My favorite characters were Hermione and Annabeth Chase — the smart girls. I saw myself in them, and I liked that. I liked being smart. I liked being the one with the good ideas, the one reading, the one who knew answers. It gave me a sense of identity, one I wore with pride. I learned early that intelligence made people uncomfortable. That being curious wasn’t cute if it made others feel small. That speaking up too much, knowing too much, caring too much—especially as a girl—could make you annoying. Unlikable. That being smart could be a liability. Still, for a long time despite that, I never cared because my mind felt electric. Alive. Like there was something sharp and sparkling underneath my skin that made me me. Not any more. Post-grad hit like a hazy fog that won’t lift. No

saved by

• Kristie Huang
• Ashna Nirula
• Keyan