Demon Copperhead

by Barbara Kingsolver

First, I got myself born.

People love to believe in danger, as long as it’s you in harm’s way, and them saying bless your heart.

An older boy that never knew safety himself, trying to make us feel safe.

It hit me pretty hard, how there’s no kind of sad in this world that will stop it turning. People will keep on wanting what they want, and you’re on your own.

I was wishing so hard for him to give a damn, and also for him to disappear from the planet of Earth.

The moral of his story was how you never know the size of hurt that’s in people’s hearts, or what they’re liable to do about it, given the chance.

Never be mean in anything. Never be false. Never be cruel. I can always be hopeful of you.

The hopeless wishes that won’t quit stalking you: some perfect words you think you could say to somebody to make them see you, and love you, and stay.

She was not in the business of throwing her life away so other people can stay shitfaced.

“It’s not natural for boys to lose their minds,” she said. “It happens because they’ve had too many things taken away from them.”