More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I’ve spent the past two hours binge-watching a documentary about the career revival of a famous singer-songwriter. The last scene had been of her sobbing into a napkin in the darkness of her studio, while screenshots of absurdly mean comments floated around her like digital phantoms.
So I’ll make Cyrus lower his guard, make him think I’ve forgiven him at last, and when he finally wants me—wants, not loves, because there’s a chasm between those two things, one that I’ve never been able to cross with any boy—I’ll yank the rug out from under his feet.
Cyrus frowns, as if I’m asking a trick question. “Why wouldn’t she have liked you?” A pause. “Why wouldn’t everyone like you?” Maybe because I have nothing of value to offer? Because I care too much about my appearance, and I overthink everything, and I can be annoying and dumb and indecisive, and I don’t have the slightest clue what I’m doing with my life? Because I have no personality outside of my flaws?