More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I never get why white men are grumpy. Like, we’re living in a patriarchy. You’re the most privileged class on the face of the earth. You’re not walking to your car with your keys through your fingers like wolverine and you’ve got bodily autonomy, why the bad mood?�
“Yeah. I want someone who knows everything there is to know about me, and I want to know everything about them. I want to be able to say one out-of-context comment to someone and they get what it means and they laugh and it’s just some stupid joke from like eleven years ago that means nothing to anyone else.�
I had a humming under my skin that I was so unused to, it took me half the day to even realize what it was. Anxiety. They’d shaken me up enough to make me anxious. The way I used to feel twenty-four-seven living with them, like something bad was going to happen and I didn’t know what and I had to be braced for it. Back then the sound of the front door opening or a floorboard creaking could send me into a panic.
You think that it’s the big memories you should be chasing—and it is in a way. Birthdays and vacations and special occasions. But the small memories are the fabric of your life, the ones so inconsequential that you don’t even remember them. You just remember how you felt when you were making them.
