Disappoint Me

This is also the world where people, often women, are doomed to spend much of their lives forgiving the errors of others and suffering for the sake of other people’s growth. Sometimes there’s nothing to do but leave, and sometimes there’s nothing to do but forgive.

No person is fewer than two things.

I suppose intellectualizing our experiences is just another way to depersonalize them. Strip them of pain we would otherwise feel, and replace it with pain we can merely think about.

You can fall in love with an outline, you can even make a home with one, but there will come a time when you can’t deny the bones their flesh. No person is fewer than two things.

After a certain age, if people don't become their families or partners, then they become their jobs.

Nostalgia demands an admission that the present is not so good.

Logic may diagnose wounds, but it doesn't close them.

I went to the internet to ask if I was being love-bombed

I’m taken by how little I feel at what I’ve said, how something once anguishing and hurtful has smoothed into a pebble, a small anecdote to skip into the lake of conversation.

Nostalgia demands some admission that the present is not so good.

But maybe that’s a tall order, and maybe sometimes life demands spelling things out for people, and that’s nobody’s fault.

They're all white-they don't understand that I'll be asking for permission for the rest of my life

But here he is, walking her down the aisle, all in the name of tradition, all in the name of seeing men as who we want them to be and not as who they are.

He gives me the look. That weird, dumb glare that men give you before they kiss you, a moment of vacancy before leaning in, a twisting of the head as if it were a star-shaped block to push into a baby’s shape sorter.