On Losing Shannen Doherty

I found out while doom scrolling at a writing retreat in Greece. We lost Richard Simmons, Dr. Ruth, and Paul Ruebens that week, the 1980s laid to rest.

But you were the dark swan of the 1990s. Unlucky in love. Hard to work with. A bitch.

“She’s got a Picasso face” one of my friends said, which was sort of true and probably why you were my favourite. Your imperfect streak through Hollywood and womanhood, both impossible games to master, felt familiar.

So did your refusal to disappear.

Maybe that’s why I’m so gutted.