But when your mom has been hospitalized twice for depression, you learn to read between the lines.
“Sam Penny’s watching me, not like I watch people, but how people who care about people watch people. Like he’s noticed a crack. Not in the construct of who I let the world think I am, but in who I actually am, and he’s not staring at me to open it up wider to see what’s inside like I would… I think he’s staring at me like that so he can work out how to fix it. “You are sad,” he tells me with a small nod—he’s decided—and he steps toward me. “So what if I am!” I yell at Sam. “My dad just died.” He gives me a long look again and then shakes his head. “That’s not why you’re sad.” I bellow, “Who the fuck asked you!” He shrugs gently. “I don’t know, Georgia—I think maybe the more important question is, who didn’t ask you?”
― The Conditions of Will
― The Conditions of Will
“They go to your church?” I ask. “Um—” She cringes. “I mean—we go to the same church.” She pauses. “I don’t think we know the same God.” I purse my lips in contempt. Think about how being a “Christian” has so little to do with acting Christ-like now, especially these days, and especially in America. And I don’t know what I believe. I think I believe in God, but not the one people like Maryanne and my mom claim to know. I don’t know if there’s a PR team in heaven, but can you even imagine the crisis management team they’d need these days? What with people like these idiot girls with bright eyes and dull hearts, not a hair out of place but hearts in the wrong one. Girls like them who bat their eyes as they pick and choose from the Bible to create a world they’re comfortable to exist in.”
― The Conditions of Will
― The Conditions of Will
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