No one had prepared me for the possibility that I might feel this way. I mean, this was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. And I didn't want to be there.
College was the grand disappointment. It was the kidnapping of my inner self, an abrupt shaking of everything I held dear, a promise of salvation that was horribly forgotten.
As I grew up, various unpleasant experiences pushed me dangerously close to anti-Semitic feelings. So can I condemn others who express similar impressions?
My brother and I explored our ancestry through a DNA test. The results surprised, intrigued, and inspired me.
My teacher called "Salvador Litvak" on the first day of class, and I told her I go by "Alex." No one batted an eye, but deep down I felt like a coward.
That’s me: a death-obsessed, fearful, life-loving, food-savoring soul who can barely function in this space-filled world. Somehow, I manage to have great adventures.
This is very hard to have to write. But I do feel like I have to. Even though it’s making me physically ill to do so. Even though you already know how the story ends.
Have you ever stopped yourself partway through a holiday, prayer service or religious event and thought “What am I even doing here”?
Between paternalism and passivity, solidarity and self-righteousness, the ever-process of understanding begins with an admission of irreparable ignorance.
There is no path. The path is many paths. It is an empty field. It is an entire twelve lane highway.