mego wego

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Butter
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Oct 03, 2025 11:49PM

 
Aftershocks: A Me...
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by Nadia Owusu (Goodreads Author)
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Dec 31, 2024 12:14AM

 
Dark Space: Archi...
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See all 4 books that mego wego is reading…
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Ocean Vuong
“In Vietnamese, the word for missing someone and remembering them is the same: nhớ. Sometimes, when you ask me over the phone, Có nhớ mẹ không? I flinch, thinking you meant, Do you remember me?

I miss you more than I remember you.”
Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

“Junior has always been bad. Bad is a self-fulfilling prophecy that, heard enough times, is believed: I am bad. The constant question, Why are you so bad? That time he stole. All the times he stole. He is always stealing, always wanting more. The answer he receives is always no -- no matter how practical and from the heart the thing is that he desires -- because he will surely ruin it, for he is bad and he must be punished for his badness. This is where we diverge. I become a black woman in the way I have been taught: silent, undeserving, inadequate in every way. And he becomes a black man: unpredictable, scary. Bad.”
Melissa Valentine, The Names of All the Flowers

John Green
“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”
John Green, Looking for Alaska

Hanif Abdurraqib
“One way trauma can impact us is by the way it makes us consider a polite proximity to violence and oppression as comfort.”
Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance

Hanif Abdurraqib
“I think about how often me and the boys I knew and know were taught to love each other through expressions of violence. How, if that is our baseline for love, it might be impossible for us to love anyone well, including ourselves.”
Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance

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