Suicidal Ideation On The Subway

Taking Me To A World Beyond The Cul-De-Sac

A black and white photograph of me with my back to a street called Right Way, reaching in the direction of otherwise. Photographer: Stephen L.A. Miller

“You pull these startling elements onto a canvas of your own, and that’s your life”

— Ntozake Shange, Liliane: Resurrection Of The Daughter (1994), pg. 87

The content warning is in the title.

We often talk about our “enough” numbers and scenarios. I am sitting here crying real tears because I am writing a novel on Desire. I can’t tell you how good it feels to release, how good it feels to let it be enough. I’m a writer, holy shit. I’m a fucking writer and I can’t tell you how good it feels to finally believe it. To finally let myself be it as I type through real tears, I kid you not.

The only two years in my life when I didn’t create art were the only two years in my life when I had suicidal ideation. I would ride the A and the C train (haha my initials, very funny) every morning around 7am and would get back on the same train going in the …