Thought Catalog

Michelle Cheever

Michelle Cheever was raised "just outside" Boston and currently resides in Brooklyn. She is an Emerson College ...

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When I saw a dying person for the first time I was six. My mother, father, sister and I were staying at my uncle’s lake house. My aunt was at the end of a battle with cancer. I didn’t know what that meant, but I could see her frailness, how something I couldn’t name was slowly diminishing, draining from her withered features.

I’m where I’m meant to be now, but I hate that I believed I had to present myself differently in order for others to believe that I’m queer. I hate that dressing girly now makes me invisible to the lesbian community. What I hate most of all, however, is that even if I make it a known fact that I am into women, I am still doubted and distrusted by everyone.

My time kicking through the slush pile has taught me this: people are crazy and people are determined. I cannot imagine the amount of dedication and beautiful delusion it takes to write five hundred pages about a woman who must choose between a jazz musician and an eccentric LES artist.