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297 pages, Paperback
First published September 3, 2019


”Yeah, I’m a worrier. I worry about pretty much everything, all the time. I worry about the big stuff: climate change, animal cruelty, the state of politics, boat people, whose finger is on the button, bigness, nothingness, all of it.”
“Some nights I lie awake and think about the universe before it was a universe. Science says there are more than a hundred billion galaxies out there, and several hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone. But how do we know? Who counted? I get why people believe in God; how the fuck did we get here? What if just one of those chemical reactions never happened and we never existed, or what if cats evolved opposable thumbs instead of us? Some days I feel guilty for worrying about the small stuff: schoolwork, no phone credit, no cereal, the holes in my shoes, the stupid sensor light next door that’s been left on for two years straight and beams right into our bedroom window, tricking me into thinking the sun is up when it’s the middle of the night. My circadian rhythms are fucked.”


The willingness to expose wounds is a sign of privilege. Vulnerability is a survival risk, so you don’t show it.
'So I could make a difference,' he says, flatly.
It's my cue to tell him he did make a diference, but the words get stuck. It's like hugging Jake - I know it's what he needs and deserves, but it's just so hard.
He supposedly has all the answers, so I give him the next best thing.
'Mr Reid?'
'Yes.'
'What it, in an alternate reality, my fatal flaw is actually a superpower? Do I ditch the flaw, or find a new reality?'
He closes his eyes. 'Thank you, McKee.'
The truth is, I kind of, possibly, maybe, might be starting to give a shit.

"Drag me off, before I set my world on fire" - Audioslave