Dear Trudy, with Love from Baddieland

By Kate Wylie

Mar 02, 2026

I love when Britney deletes her Instagram account. I love when she shaves her snow-bleached head. Uncage the wailing goldfinch. I love when Lily says she has an anonymous charli xcx fan account and embarrassing sex. I love the new bops about her ex. Pickaxe leaned against a Ginkgo tree. I love Ashnikko’s smoochie girls. I love when Katie posts pictures of dead birds online. I love first-naming everybody. I love the stray bombay wiping its nose on my sleeve. Cutting through the plastic wrapped around sunflowers. The scent of slow decay. Pendulum and chimes. I love playtime. I love makeabigmesstime. Peacheating inthetreetops. I love mermaidsinthepool. I love sneakersinthebusinessmeeting. I love paperairplanesduringclass. I love timewasting and notcaring. I love gettingyelledatbymyteachers. Feedingalltheneighborhoodcats and pissingoffmyparents. I love when my brother calls me his sister. I love beingasister. I love beingyoursister. I love beingbigsister to allthesadgirls allthemadgirls alltherealgirlsgettingstrongereveryday all the girls who lost a fundamental kaleidoscopic heart-facet at the foot of a mountain that only exists through the eyes of a much younger self. A mountaindaughter living years and years away, sleepwalking backwards through her mountainfather’s bootprints spanning the mountainmotherland. I love that mountain. I love the merciless god who dropped me at its base with no answer but a snowstorm, no trajectory except