The Silly Bitch Returns

She's Full! Of! Feelings!

It goes a little like this:

Scream! And scream! And scream! Run out for tampons one night, get in your car, zone out and drive all the way up the PCH into Malibu, past Malibu, singing so loud you’re screaming again, and crying, and wait - where are you! Talk and talk and talk! Use your hands when you talk to make them! Understand! Exactly! How full of rage you are that your body! Is not! Your BODY anymore! And then the guns! Cry and cry and cry and cry and cry for all those babies and for their parents and friends and the bedrooms still full of their toys, and shoes, little special things that their families have to do something with? Also! The ground is melting under your feet! And the world you thought you were giving your kids has been so thoroughly stolen from them, how can you ever apologize enough? How can you ever make it up to them? Roaring my terrible roar, gnashing my terrible teeth, rolling my terrible eyes, showing my terrible claws!

This letter, which started as a nice way…