Here’s what it’s like to be a woman: every month, one morning, you wake up and you feel different. Suddenly everything feels fragile and terrifying but also beautiful and profound. You’re regretful, you obsess over something you said four years ago. You’re ravenous and thirsty and bread is wonderful and for some reason, bananas are weird. Your brain is pulsing, your body feels Off. You’re dying, or you’re pregnant. Your body is trying to tell you the truth about your life. You definitely felt these exact feelings in the exact same way last month, but you’ve been so busy doing and feeling and labeling and making and providing and nurturing and scrubbing and worrying that you actually don’t remember, so it all feels brand new. You’re a genius. Or maybe you have cancer? Something big is off. And then you get your period, and you remember that it was all just a person that was never meant to be. An organ, cleaning house. You’re one of trillions, and you’re as predictable as time. You step back in line. You’re a regular person again, you eat a regular amount of salad and make peace with your mistakes and with life’s unanswerable questions, until next Month.

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