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by Rivers Solomon

The answer to all these questions, of course, is that human beings are not very good. I say this not misanthropically but with the realization that we, through apparent dominance over other animals, have crowned ourselves kings, when in reality we are ill equipped to handle the basic demands of life on this scale. We are forest creatures who’ve wandered into the man-made road, eyes frozen and wide.

Okay, but like, what of anyone’s father. Goodness, we can’t be disappointed by men we never once believed in.

Every good thing you’ve done is for show, in the hope that people don’t see through to your core, your rotten, non-sliver core.

Eve has read that book that circulates widely, about the children of emotionally immature parents, and knows that if you’re waiting for some admittance of wrongdoing, of mistake, if you need an apology to move on, it will never come. Never. The realization that validation of the pain will never come from those who inflicted the pain has the power to obliterate. Did it happen? If they’re not apologizing, if they’re not admitting they’ve done it, did they do it? What is real? What is true? Is my life a fantasy? Then let me wake up by dying.