Margo's Got Money Troubles

by Rufi Thorpe

When that grew boring, she scrolled Twitter, which was like being bathed in the dirty water of other people’s thoughts. On Instagram she was in a deep, deep ad loop.

the shame was like an egg cracked on my head, cold and wet and dripping.

Wouldn’t that be a beautiful human achievement? To learn everything about a person you would never meet?

That was one thing I had not appreciated or understood about Suzie before all of this. The girl was always aggressively down.

I had more money than I’d ever had in my life, yet somehow it never seemed to be enough.

She kissed Bodhi and hugged Jinx goodbye, feeling hulked out on mother love and ready to kick some ass.

sometimes she did not imagine herself as tiny, she imagined herself as gigantic, a woman the size of the Empire State Building, spraying breast milk all over Manhattan.

Everyone loved to put a bitch back in her place.

since she wanted to be good, she’d always been careful not to care too much about money.

But good or evil, every single dollar was power. Power to hire a lawyer, power to control how she spent her time, power to change her appearance, power to command respect. Power to be who she wanted to

“You can’t tell me that if it was men and a medical decision would result in their penis splitting open and them not being able to hold their pee for the rest of their life, they wouldn’t think that should be their own decision.”

It made me both hate my fans and love them. I needed them desperately, and yet I wished they’d all go away, even only for a day, so I could breathe and think and be a person.

I had always imagined my father as having these dark, unfathomable urges for sex, drugs, violence. It was better, in a way, to understand that what he really wanted and needed was for the pain and loneliness to ease. His behavior was still bad, but it was no longer so alien and frightening.

Margo knew the world was perfectly willing to punish you no matter what you had done.

I thought maybe that was why we got along the way we did, both of us raised by these delightful psychos.

It was so tiresome wading through his self-righteous posturing. He wasn’t even very good at

I think the things we make up in our heads, the assumptions we make, wind up being much worse than what’s really going

I also knew, nursing Bodhi to sleep each night, that my world would never be without love again. Love was not something, I realized, that came to you from outside.

I didn’t know the love was supposed to come from within me, and that as long as I loved others, the strength and warmth of that love would fill me, make me strong.