Feeling trapped? Angry at the world? Done with everyone’s bullshit? Then come on down to ScreamFest, where the only limits are your lung capacity!

The breakup was inevitable. When you get up every day with fond hopes but are met with nothing but passivity—when you continually think and dream about the object of your affection and concern but there is no reciprocity — it’s only natural to finally give up.

For those of you who live in the Eastern United States, are you sick of cicadas yet? They were cool when they first came out, but now they keep flying into my car, latching into my hair, and making so much noise that my family has to yell if we want to be understood outside.

You created more charts and graphs than you care to admit. You ordered books from professors in all the programs and practically read them standing beside the mailbox. You realized application fees quickly add up and required you to cease “treating yo’ self” for a long while. Now all that’s left is time.

My first reaction to growing body hair was pride. I noticed a spreading of downy hair across my lower legs, and I wanted to let it grow forever, becoming thicker and darker until I could clasp it in my hands, like Arwen’s silky smooth elven tresses in The Lord of the Rings. I stroked my legs as the hair grew more resplendent, happy to be maturing, and blissfully ignorant of the other developments that would follow in rapid succession; acne, bad posture, and worse eyesight.