Addison Gilligan
Pronouns: she/her/hers
Addie is a fourth-year student majoring in English literature. When she isn’t reading, she’s probably bartending at Asado, applying to grad school, or writing her senior thesis. She’s hoping to become a technical writer, a famous literary agent, or something that allows her to live in a big city.
I don’t know much about music, unless you count the piano lessons my mom made me take when I was eight.
I listen to her voice break on the other side of the line, describing all the things he did to make her feel Crazy.
Even as a kid, I never really liked dressing up for Halloween. It has a little to do with really hating being looked at, probably. And it has a lot to do with hating not being seen, probably.
As she shapes my nails, we talk about the state of modern poetry, of literature as a magnum for capitalist venture...
July 25th, 2021
I feel like I am floating after this untethering. Like a balloon headed for the clouds, in that dually melancholy and pleasing way. After this life change, I was expecting my reality to crash around me. This not-quite painful floating sensation has taken me off guard. Losing love is a funny thing.
A note to readers: The following piece was written prior to the results of the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election. In the time between the closing of polls and the announcement of President-Elect Joe Biden's victory, these ponderings came to be.
I fall in love every day. My boyfriend worries that I’m unfaithful. Little does he know.
Tonight feels like fall. Like the type of weather that makes you imagine sweaters and sweatshirts comfortably, and makes me want to pull out a book and drink something hot. Mosquitoes are still biting me, but other than that this is my perfect climate.
I’ve never really been one to appreciate change. At least, that's the label that I’ve upheld since childhood. I can still hear my dad saying, “Yeah, Addie really doesn’t like change,” explaining away the weird quirks I refused to let go of.