Play Nice

The world will drive a woman insane, then point at them and laugh.

think it’s just easier to call someone crazy than it is to admit that they could be right. Easier to call someone crazy than to confront the nuance of their circumstance, than to accept the callous cruelty that exists in the world we live in, the evil out there that revels in our suffering.

Remembering is not always a light shone into darkness. Sometimes it’s a claw reaching out and dragging you back.

Behind every crazy woman is a man sitting very quietly, saying, “What? I’m not doing anything.

It just makes me wonder about belief and delusion. What’s the difference there, really? Maybe delusion is an eagerness to believe. A desperation for it.

the easiest way to tell who a man really is, is to injure his ego and see how he reacts.

How many times have I witnessed a man declare he was outraged over some indiscretion that he himself was later found guilty of? How many proud gentlemen revealed to be wolves?

I empathize with the binding of this 15 year old paperback, in how it's struggling to keep it all together.

But so often, being right means nothing but winning a round of a losing game.

Some lessons can only be taught by regret.

Everyone in my life wants me to behave in a very specific way that’s beneficial to them, and as soon as I deviate from their expectations, it’s an issue. As soon as I act out of whatever role they cast me in in their lives, it’s somehow my fault.

I almost tell him that he smells like smoke, almost tell him that he smells like fascism, almost ask him if, after libraries, he plans on taking his flamethrower to the museums. I almost tell him how close I am to hating him. But my throat is sore, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

Turns out, I was right. But so often, being right means nothing but winning a round of a losing game.

I want to get champagne drunk with her and have her tell me all her wild bullshit stories and give me compliment after compliment and let me rummage through her closet.

I wonder if love can be ugly. If it can do the wrong thing. Bad things. I wonder if it can ever really die.

If we don’t remember something, how can we be sure it never happened?

Men are never selfish. They’re smart. Women are always selfish. You want to be single? Selfish. You’re a wife and mother and do anything other than dote on your husband and children? Selfish. I want you and your sisters to learn to take that word as a compliment. Anyone who says that to you is trying to discourage you from doing what you want. That’s how you know you’re doing something right.

The world will drive a woman insane

One visit to the house, and I’m entertaining the possibility that maybe a place can make you crazy.

Men are all the same

Behind every crazy woman is a man sitting very quietly

There’s something terrible about that time between lightning and thunder. That cruel purgatory of anticipation

Motherhood irrevocably changed me. Years in

I sip my champagne. I like it better than the beer. I wish I had simpler tastes, but I don’t.

the easiest way to tell who a man really is

it’s just easier to call someone crazy than it is to admit that they could be right.

so often, being right means nothing but winning a round of a losing game.

Part of me is flattered, because I love attention. We have that in common, the demon and me. I like being the favorite.