tania

“Put anything you want,” said Sophia impatiently. “Just so they’ll understand. Now don’t interrupt. It goes on like this: The worm probably knows that if it comes apart, both halves will start growing separately. Space. But we don’t know how much it hurts. And we don’t know, either, if the worm is afraid it’s going to hurt. But anyway, it does have a feeling that something sharp is getting closer and closer all the time. This is instinct. And I can tell you this much, it’s no fair to say it’s too little, or it only has a digestive canal, and so that’s why it doesn’t hurt. I am sure it does hurt, but maybe only for a second. Now take the smart worm that made itself long and came apart in the middle, that may have been like pulling a tooth, for example, except it didn’t hurt. When it had calmed its nerves, it could tell right away it was shorter, and then it saw the other half right beside it. Let me make this a little easier to understand by putting it this way: Both halves fell down to the ground, and the person with the hook went away. They couldn’t grow back together, because they were terribly upset, and then, of course, they didn’t stop to think, either. And they knew that by and by they’d grow out again, both of them. I think they looked at each other, and thought they looked awful, and then crawled away from each other as fast as they could. Then they started to think. They realised that from now on life would be quite different, but they didn’t know how, that is, in what way.”
― Tove Jansson, The Summer Book

“She always fucking does that. If she knows something hits me in a deep way, if she knows it hurts, she shoves the knife in deeper and twists it around. How can a grandmother want to cause her grandchild pain? I know she’s had a hard life, I know she’s sad and desperate for attention, and I know she’s hurt by my coldness toward her, but still. I do not think there are any excuses for her behavior.”
― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died

“Paths that cross will cross again.”
― Patti Smith, Just Kids

“Lying to Mom is difficult for me. Whenever I lie to her to protect my relationship with Joe, I hang up the phone and weep into Joe's arms from the guilt I feel. I tell him I wish I could be honest with her, I wish she could meet him, I wish I wasn't scared of her. And Joe runs his hands through my hair and comforts me.
I feel the wedge between Mom and I growing by the day. With every lie I tell, I feel myself slipping further away from her. With every pound I gain, every binge I partake in, I feel myself getting more disconnected from her.
I'm so confused and troubled by this wedge. I'm desperate to feel close with her, but also desperate for that closeness to be on my terms, not hers. I want her to know me for who I'm becoming. I want her to allow my growth. I want her to want me to be me.
But that feels more like a fantasy than a possibility, for now at least. So for now, I lie.”
― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died