Self-Portrait as Co-Star Notifications

by Marisa Crane

Not even fistfuls of spinach can save you from yourself.

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You should have known you were gay the moment you made your ex-boyfriend a CD with “Fast Car” on it—not once, but twice.

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Have you considered the very real possibility that you are an octopus from a neighboring planet?

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Quit arguing over whether a hotdog is a sandwich or not. Do you fear that which you cannot categorize?

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Breaking: you didn’t throw the first brick at Stonewall.

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Greet your loved ones with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

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You have access to every moment at once & still, you never learn.

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Share a bucket of popcorn with someone tonight; watch the dinosaurs & the Compton’s Cafeteria riot. Your college championship game & Queen at Live Aid. Your best friend’s OD & the birth of your first child. Watch everything at the same time. Make it all make sense.

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Are you holding onto a place that isn’t real?

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You were sculpted by someone with a resting tremor. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with that.

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Just like an octopus, you have three hearts—one for your past, present, & future. What you do with that information is up to you.

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Encourage a dandelion to pluck you out of your office job today. Make its greatest wish come true.

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Forget what you think you know about happiness. Backstroke through the heavens. Wipe the stars from your thighs. When you’re ready, spit up your hearts.

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Give up your desire to be the only one to have done a particular thing.

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Either change your life or don’t, no one’s going to beg you.

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Today the popcorn is under-salted. No matter. Watch the Stonewall riots, anyway. Watch the Juneteenth celebrations all over the country. Watch yourself watching Carol for the first time.

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Worship your body / admire your body / question your body / fill in the blank your body. Do anything but abandon your body.

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Listen to what your third nipple has to say about your finances.

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There is no such thing as a god who loves you.

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Love is both a verb & a noun. Act accordingly.

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Everything you do is a distraction from yourself. Try painting an abstract portrait of this distraction.

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Your abs are not a measure of your self-worth.

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You poor thing, did you think this life would be easy?

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Go to the gay bar & remember just how unimportant you are. Tip the bartenders. Step in vomit. Flirt with the emotionally unavailable—just once, for old time’s sake.

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It’s a good day to lick the Hot Cheetos bag clean.

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Body dysmorphia is a free ticket into a funhouse without an exit. Lucky you.

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People are on their worst behavior today. You have permission to look directly into the imaginary camera as many times as you want.

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Some alcoholics only drink on weekends.

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Experiment with rearranging your bones. Transform your sternum into a bookshelf. Go looking for yourself where spine meets spine.

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If you can’t be honest between someone’s legs, where can you be honest?

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Call in horny to work. Watch Disobedience in your boxer briefs. Maybe if you’re lucky, you will become Rachel Weisz’s spit the moment it drips into Rachel McAdams’ mouth.

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Raise your paw if you feel like bad taxidermy.

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Whenever you’re feeling down, try imagining a bear on a job interview.

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Send a sext that reads like the closing to a poem.

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Submit a poem that reads like a sext gone wrong.

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No amount of microdermabrasion scrub can smooth out your personality.

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Can you remember a single compliment you’ve ever received?

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Don’t be surprised by the thinness of your blood. Despite what you may think, plenty of things are thicker than blood. Like boundaries, for example.

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It’s never too late to see signs everywhere.

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You didn’t throw the second brick at Stonewall, either.

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Experiment with serotonin & dopamine today. There are some breakers hiding behind the milk in the fridge.

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They say the one unifying facet of all stories is tension. Do you want to be a story or a person?

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You should investigate what you mean by useful.

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Those thirty-seven open tabs aren’t doing you any good.

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You aren’t far from everyone; you’re far from yourself.

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Your marbles are on the floor, right where you left them. Meanwhile, your past-tense heart is singing “Strawberry Fields Forever” in the courtyard & staring directly into the sun.

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Why don’t you check the expiration date on that grudge of yours?

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Don’t you dare hit up your ex today. Forget what they say about blooming where you’re planted—sprout some legs & outrun your own disappointment.

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Why do you have this app if you aren’t even going to pretend to listen?

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Today the popcorn is smothered in butter. Flip through the universes. Where is the life you always wanted?

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Learn to pronounce homage then pay it to all the trans & queer angels of the world.

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Your ancestors don’t deserve love—yours or anyone else’s.

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Stop interpreting every non-kiss, non-cuddle, & non-date as abandonment.

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You don’t get to resent your chores when you were the one who made the mess.

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The sooner you stop assuming every domestic task will turn into a flogging session, the better off you’ll be.

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Stop carrying on about the love letters you never sent. The sea lions ate them for breakfast.

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Lean so far into your depression that you manage to fall through it & into a giant, glimmering ball pit.

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Stop telling everyone that sad songs make you happy when in fact they make you time-travel.

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Resist the urge to post this notification on social media.

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Replacing your memories with a basket of pomegranate seeds is always a good idea.

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Think before you shoot that burning arrow into the past. Your future-tense heart wants to know: what do you want? Do you know? Better yet, do you care?

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Look someone in the eye & attempt to define good without saying the word me.

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First person POV has eaten your brain & tangled all of your arteries.

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Dip your toe in the sky, even if it’s too hot to dive in.

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Spend the day asking the mountains if they even want to be moved.

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Your therapist is not a replacement for the mirror you tore down. Listen when she says You’ve done nothing wrong.

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It doesn’t count as an I feel statement if you say I feel like you’re a cunt.

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About that grudge?

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The human condition is NSFW & neither are you. Play hooky today & every day moving forward.

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Enjoying yourself is not a treat—it’s a vital nutrient.

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Tomorrow you turn 10,000 years old. Celebrate by inventing 10,000 languages to love yourself with.

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Don’t forget to look up. Witness your spirit flying home to itself. Swallow every firework in sight.

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The thing is, you never left home. Did you forget how this works? The loveseat is levitating eight feet in the air. The night is calm & sweet. There’s enough room for every version of you here.

Marisa Crane is a queer, nonbinary writer whose work has appeared in The Rumpus, Hobart, Jellyfish Review, Wigleaf Top 50, and elsewhere. She is the author of the poetry chapbook, Our Debatable Bodies (Animal Heart Press, 2019). Originally from Allentown, PA, she currently lives in San Diego with her wife.