Louise O'Neill

(I have ruined their lives.)

Guilt paints itself on to my skin.

they’re practically asking to be attacked

I wish another girl had been the one to start the national conversation.

I don’t have a story

They say that I was

It’s not your fault, the therapist tells me, but she is wrong

We could sit here, listen to those strangers tell us where it is we went wrong

Not to get. Not to get that word

Being by the sea always made Sarah feel small, insignificant in a way that was comforting somehow. It made her think that none of this would matter, in the end.

Smile, love, men would shout as she passed them on the street. You’d be so much prettier if you smiled, as if a performance of joy was the price Sarah had to pay for existing in a female body in a public space.