Home Sweet Hell
a one sentence story
This tiny little house in the projects was the seat of so much of my trauma: a site of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; the tiny room where I lived out my solitary confinement; the calendar where X’s marked the days I cried in anguish and loneliness, more filled than not; the door my friends would knock on to ask if I could come out and play and be turned away; the hallway filled with whispers of secrets and adult games and porno films and the naked bodies of my parents; the place that was my childhood prison until I escaped at thirteen after living a whole life that children shouldn’t live.
For the month of December I’ll be writing One Sentence Stories (OSS) every day to share little bits of myself. They’re 100% true and 110% run-on sentences. Thanks so much to Robin Taylor (he/him) for the amazing idea. Feel free to join in and tag me so I can read along!
My Latest Release
I made this in my pajamas because I never leave my house. Experimental improvised guitar and electronics, wrapped in melancholy, angst, and gender fuzziness.
Thanks for reading!