Sarah

“do I have to snap the wine bottle inside him to get him to stop sending me sad emails? Do I have to cut his nipple off for him to realise he should probably ring the police? Do I have to cave his head in with my camera, rather than hit him the once? Do I have to crash his car? Do I have to smash a glass over the head of every single man I come into contact with, just so I leave a fucking mark?”
― Eliza Clark, Boy Parts

“I told her how the predominant state of my early twenties was loneliness, how it all often felt like a fake life, how I couldn’t escape the feeling that my real, good life was happening somewhere else, and how frightened I was that I might never find out where, and that I’d miss the whole thing loitering off stage.”
― Bea Setton, Berlin

“There was something abstract and gentle about the experience of being ignored—a feeling of being spared, a known impossibility of anything happening—that was consonant with my understanding of love. In theory, of course, I knew that love could be reciprocated. It was a thing that happened, often, to other people. But I was unlike other people in so many ways.”
― Elif Batuman, Either/Or

“I expected my suffering to feel redemptive in some way. I thought life was meant to be meaningful, even when it was hard.
I wanted to tell her that I was unhappy, but that my unhappiness had no noble cause, and was nearly entirely of my own making. It was slow, insidious self-destruction”
― Bea Setton, Berlin