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224 pages, Hardcover
First published October 22, 2024
If I were a different person, I think, dancing, maybe my mother would still be sane… It occurs to me that my mother is almost certainly going to kill herself out of fear. The thought makes me feel heavy and tired.
Feeling abandoned and no longer really able to go back to the apartment I share with my boyfriend, I shift into a different circle made up of white kids from high-cost-of-living cities who communicate in obscure one-liners and do bad coke and drink cheap beer. I want upward social mobility. They’re in the process of pissing away decades of generational wealth. My hope is we can meet in the middle.
Like other people who spent too much time reading as children, I grew up thinking of myself as a person in a story, all plot twists and climaxes and reversals of fortune that remained under the purview of some distant narrative force into whose hands my life had been placed. I can’t find a logical thread in it for what is happening to my mother. Her illness is unfolding according to no rules at all, and no matter how I try to hold it to-gether, the structure falls to pieces.