Sometimes, the only choices are awful, with little hope that anything will ever be okay again. And you pick one anyway.
Krissie C and 1 other person liked this
“The way they talk about themselves—with such frankness—it feels like all people are wet clay, all the shapes that define us self-imposed. I realize this fits into the way I’ve always seen myself, which is: art, attempted, though often spoiled by the demands of another’s taste. It makes me wonder what shape I’d be if I’d never met another human being.”
― The Honeys
― The Honeys
“Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.”
― Circe
― Circe
“The thing nobody tells you about grief is that time moves on. Or my personal favorite that nobody stops telling you—time heals all wounds. As if I want time to go anywhere. I want the world to stop. For every person to quit moving around me. For the screens to quit flashing and the zombies to stop walking so slowly down the streets that they almost get hit by cars.”
― The Best of Friends
― The Best of Friends
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