Jen Wilde Quotes
“That's what we do. We walk a tightrope every day. Getting out the door is a tightrope. Going grocery shopping is a tightrope. Socializing is a tightrope. Things that most people consider to be normal, daily parts of life are the very things we fear and struggle with the most, and yet here we are, moving forward anyway. That's not weak.”
“Besides, there's no one way to be a girl, Tay. You don't need to fit yourself into what society tells us a girl should be. Girls can be whoever they want. Whether that's an ass-kicking, sarcastic, crime-solving FBI Agent or a funny, gorgeous, witty beauty queen--or both at the same time." She swings an arm around me and pulls me in.
"Are you happy the way you are? Are you comfortable? Do you feel like yourself?"
The corner of my mouth lifts into a half smile. "Yes. Yes. And yes."
"Then that's all that matters. Fuck everything else.”
“My bottom lip starts to quiver, but I keep going. “I fight every day, and too many times it’s just not enough and the fear wins. I’m so fucking weak and everything is so fucking intense and sometimes I really hate it.” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands as the tears pour out of me. I didn’t mean to say all that. I feel exposed. Tears fill her eyes, too. “Can I hug you?” I nod, unable to speak. She walks around the table and hugs me.”
“Sometimes I see people at the supermarket or somewhere else, smiling and cheerfully making small talk with strangers and not looking tense or uncomfortable at all, and i just want to go up and ask them how they do it. How did they manage to do everything they need to do and go out in the world and be human without feeling the weight of it all questioning them into oblivion”
“So,” I say, tapping my feet on the floor while I sit. I take in a deep breath. “I think I’m gonna enter the SupaFan Contest.” His head snaps up. “Huh?” “I want to enter the contest.” He sits up straight. “You do?” “Yes.” He cocks his head to the side. “What made you change your mind?” I shift awkwardly in my seat, already feeling nervous about my decision. “Talking to Josie.”
“Sometimes I see people at the supermarket or somewhere else mundane, smiling and cheerfully making small talk with strangers and not looking tense or uncomfortable at all, and I just want to go up and ask them how they do it. How do they manage to do everything they need to do and go out in the world and be human without feeling the weight of it all crushing them into oblivion?”
“It's just that I know exactly how that conversation would have gone," I say. "I would've told her I'm too afraid to enter. She would've asked what I'm afraid of. I would've had to bring up the whole social anxiety thing, and she would've either encouraged me to enter anyway, completely disregarding my terror, or she would've nodded and excused herself”
“Anxiety isn’t an attack that explodes out of me; it’s not a volcano that lies dormant until it’s triggered by an earth-shattering event. It’s a constant companion. Like a blowfly that gets into the house in the middle of summer, flying around and around. You can hear it buzzing, but you can’t see it, can’t capture it, can’t let it out. My anxiety is invisible to others, but often it’s the focal point of my mind. Everything that happens on a day-to-day basis is filtered through a lens colored by anxiety. That nervousness that makes your palms sweat and your heart race before you get up and make a speech in front of an audience? That’s what I feel in a normal conversation at a dinner table. Or just thinking about having a conversation at a dinner table. The fear that other people feel on rare occasions, reserved only for when they jump out of a plane or hear a strange noise in the middle of the night—that’s my normal. That’s what I feel when the phone rings. When someone knocks on my door. When I go outside. When I’m alone. When I’m in line at a store. Everything feels like I’m on a stage, spotlight on me, all eyes on me, watching, judging. Like I’m one second away from total disaster. It’s invisible, it’s irrational, it’s never-ending. I could be standing there, smiling and chatting like everything is totally fine, while secretly wanting to scream and cry and run away. No one would ever know. In my mind, no one can hear me scream. I hide it because I know it’s not understood or acceptable—because I’m not understood or acceptable.”
“Jamie walks over, carrying a bag full of comics. “There you are!” I show him Valentina, pointing to the part where it says she’s autistic, and his eyebrows shoot up. “That is so cool.” “This is Josie, remember from the Skyler signing? She created it.” Jamie introduces himself, picks up a copy from the table, and buys it then and there.”
“I don’t even try to hide my smitten grin. “It was amazing.” Tay giggles. “Are you swooning?” She looks up at Jamie, pointing at me. “Is she swooning?” He nods. “She’s swooning.” I shake my head, but it doesn’t shake the smile off my face. “I am not swooning. I do not swoon.” Tay and Jamie glance at each other, then back at me, and both say, “Swooning.”
- Born: Melbourne, Australia.
- Description: Jen Wilde is the YA author of QUEENS OF GEEK, THE BRIGHTSIDERS and GOING OFF SCRIPT. She writes unapologetically queer stories about geeks, rockstars, and fangirls who smash the patriarchy in their own unique ways.
Her books have been praised in Teen Vogue, Buzzfeed, Autostraddle, Vulture and Bustle. Originally from Australia, Jen now lives in NYC where she spends her time writing, drinking too much coffee and binging reality TV. Follow her online @jenmariewilde.