after hbo’s “euphoria” episode 7

The first time she dipped the ends of her hair in Kool-Aid, her mother was in the shower— maybe it was the first time she felt like she could live without the love of a parent, or maybe she thought she’d replace it with a love of herself, I don’t know. The next time, it was in front of my bathroom mirror while my little sister played pop music through a broken speaker. Oh, and this time it wasn’t Kool-Aid, it was strawberry pink dye from the beauty supply store two towns over. That’s when she told me she doesn’t think she’s meant for the suburbs, or the suburbs aren’t meant for her, whatever. Either way, I still went home, slept in for four days, told my mom it was the flu again. But that’s on me, I know. When she went back to the city, she told everyone about me, but I imagined her face was screwed up like a wrinkly towel. Then she found a girl who looks like me, just without the suburbia, and slept with her because the real me is empty baggage. I can’t blame her— the world is waiting for her to conquer it, so I’m not mad. I hope she at least tried to pretend it was me.



Shyla Jones is a writer. You can find her work at shylajones.com, but more importantly, you must know that she collects nostalgic toys like Beanie Babies and Bratz dolls first and foremost.