Esther Kidd

“Time is an anarchy.

There are whole sections of years that have, in my mind, disappeared, time revealing its tricks to me like a cocky necromantic. The gaps are caverns of absence, temporal wormholes, where all I can recall is the sensation of being stretched between many different dimensions of crisis at once.”
― Camonghne Felix, Dyscalculia: A Love Story of Epic Miscalculation

“I'm crying at how easy it always was, how it feels to fly, when it means to be your own tutor and teach yourself a new beginning.”
― Camonghne Felix, Dyscalculia: A Love Story of Epic Miscalculation

“Because every time I wanted to get naked, I was sharing the soft part of my trauma with people I'd never remember, and I hated the way they'd run the pads of their fingers over the keloids, kissing at them as if just then, in the blissful fog of lust, they could heal me. I couldn't stand the pretense of it all, the role I'd let them play--me the damsel, them the mare--it made me too vulnerable, too available, too likely to be exploited.”
― Camonghne Felix, Dyscalculia: A Love Story of Epic Miscalculation

“I'm eight and already on drugs. It's an irony we couldn't anticipate, my mother humming through the cool grays of the morning as she works the pills down my through, holding back her own sick.”
― Camonghne Felix, Dyscalculia: A Love Story of Epic Miscalculation