I was born without any skin. What I mean is: I was that kid who, if her socks got scrunched up inside her shoes, would throw herself at the ground to pound with her fists and scream until she threw up. The kid who couldn’t stand certain words, certain tones of voice, certain…
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The messiah-shaped hole at the heart of Western culture, and how to fill it
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10
The joy of realizing that I already deserve to exist
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The books, podcasts, essays, ideas that have been giving me life
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A manifesto
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A genuine investigation
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Here's how to sing a praise song, and why
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On temper tantrums and tuning my ears to the sacred
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