perhappened mag
RUNNING
winter 2021-22
cover art by aleah dye, photo by jr korpa via unsplash
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meet our guest editors |
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KB is a Black, queer & trans miracle.They are the author of How To Identify Yourself with a Wound (Kallisto Gaia Press, 2022) and Freedom House (Deep Vellum Publishing, 2023). Follow them on Twitter or Instagram at @earthtokb. |
Kimberly Nguyễn is a Vietnamese-American diaspora poet.She is the author of “ghosts in the stalks”. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @knguyenpoetry. |
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letters from the editors |
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I was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult — far past the days when I thought everything I was experiencing was “normal”, and at the beginning of the worst health crisis I’d ever seen in my lifetime. It was hard, and the only way that I’ve made sense of confusion, complexity, overwhelming information, and more throughout my life is to write vigorously. So I wrote these poems. And I googled my symptoms (do not recommend). And I realized just how deeply my poetic instincts — lists poems, run-on sentences, and the like — were influenced by how my mind feels like a marathon without the satisfying touch of the ribbon on your chest after running, and running, and running, and —
I got medicated. And I googled — this time for writers with ADHD. I threw out an innocuous tweet to see just how many people in my digital circle were like me. And I dreamed, up and towards a space that could center us: writers with ADHD & the magic of ADHD poetics and prose.
Upon meeting Kimberly last year, I knew she would be a perfect editorial colleague for this endeavor. perhappened couldn’t have been a better match for our vision (<3). While reading submissions, I was inspired, saddened, pissed off, and feeling so, so seen. The writers in this issue make what once felt shameful, confusing and frustrating feel like a superpower, and creating this with the best team ever gave me a runner’s high. I’m so happy this beautiful project gets to exist past us.
Much love to everyone who sent work to this issue. Love to the contributors, Isaura, Kimberly, and you, reader of what is sure to amaze you 10 times over. I hope you find something that feels like a hug. I know I did.
I got medicated. And I googled — this time for writers with ADHD. I threw out an innocuous tweet to see just how many people in my digital circle were like me. And I dreamed, up and towards a space that could center us: writers with ADHD & the magic of ADHD poetics and prose.
Upon meeting Kimberly last year, I knew she would be a perfect editorial colleague for this endeavor. perhappened couldn’t have been a better match for our vision (<3). While reading submissions, I was inspired, saddened, pissed off, and feeling so, so seen. The writers in this issue make what once felt shameful, confusing and frustrating feel like a superpower, and creating this with the best team ever gave me a runner’s high. I’m so happy this beautiful project gets to exist past us.
Much love to everyone who sent work to this issue. Love to the contributors, Isaura, Kimberly, and you, reader of what is sure to amaze you 10 times over. I hope you find something that feels like a hug. I know I did.
-KB
I was diagnosed with ADHD last year, and I’m not really sure how it was missed in childhood. I was a problem child, a daydreamer. I used to wander out of class and forget to come back. I tried to play sports but would forget I was in a game in the middle of the game. But I was also really bright. I learned to read by the time I was three. I scored the highest on a high school entrance exam, earning me a scholarship to a private high school where I graduated valedictorian.
I became a poet not despite my ADHD but because of it. I release all of my hyperactivity through my hands. I would click pens or the battery covers on TV remotes, but in school, I couldn’t click things, so I wrote. It was the one thing I could do without getting in trouble because it was non-disruptive. I just looked like I was taking notes. I constantly felt like a fraud. In college, my classmates would be able to sit down and study for hours on end, and I couldn’t figure out how they were doing that. I would procrastinate by writing poems. At graduation, I walked across the stage believing I didn’t deserve my degree because it didn’t feel like I had worked as hard or gained as much knowledge as my peers.
This diagnosis, for me and many others, is not a defining moment but one of clarity. My diagnosis didn’t change me, but it allowed me to forgive myself, to stop holding myself to standards that were impossible for me to meet. I have learned over the course of the past year that if I’m patient with myself, I will make it to the same destination as everyone else, even if I have to take a different route.
It was such a beautiful experience getting to work with KB and Isaura to curate this special issue for writers with ADHD. I throw around the term “writers’ community” without really ever stopping to think about what that means, but this issue felt like a community. At the beginning of this project, I asked KB if the scope of this issue was too narrow. I feared that there wouldn’t be any submissions, that we might actually be alone. But I was so wrong. There are so many writers like us out there, and we’re so happy you’re here.
Thank you so much to KB, for being the perfect poet friend, and to Isaura, who helped us realize our vision. Thank you to all the submitters. We genuinely loved reading all your work. And thank you to our readers, supporters, and donors. We couldn’t have done this without you!
I became a poet not despite my ADHD but because of it. I release all of my hyperactivity through my hands. I would click pens or the battery covers on TV remotes, but in school, I couldn’t click things, so I wrote. It was the one thing I could do without getting in trouble because it was non-disruptive. I just looked like I was taking notes. I constantly felt like a fraud. In college, my classmates would be able to sit down and study for hours on end, and I couldn’t figure out how they were doing that. I would procrastinate by writing poems. At graduation, I walked across the stage believing I didn’t deserve my degree because it didn’t feel like I had worked as hard or gained as much knowledge as my peers.
This diagnosis, for me and many others, is not a defining moment but one of clarity. My diagnosis didn’t change me, but it allowed me to forgive myself, to stop holding myself to standards that were impossible for me to meet. I have learned over the course of the past year that if I’m patient with myself, I will make it to the same destination as everyone else, even if I have to take a different route.
It was such a beautiful experience getting to work with KB and Isaura to curate this special issue for writers with ADHD. I throw around the term “writers’ community” without really ever stopping to think about what that means, but this issue felt like a community. At the beginning of this project, I asked KB if the scope of this issue was too narrow. I feared that there wouldn’t be any submissions, that we might actually be alone. But I was so wrong. There are so many writers like us out there, and we’re so happy you’re here.
Thank you so much to KB, for being the perfect poet friend, and to Isaura, who helped us realize our vision. Thank you to all the submitters. We genuinely loved reading all your work. And thank you to our readers, supporters, and donors. We couldn’t have done this without you!
-Kimberly
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i. ready |
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– creative nonfiction –
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– poetry –
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ii. set |
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– poetry –
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– poetry –
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– poetry –
WINDWATER
Sophie Choong
– poetry –
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– flash fiction –
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iii. go |
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– poetry –
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– poetry –
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– poetry –
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– fiction –
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– prose –
Breaking the Habit
jaz papadopoulos
