The Emperor of Gladness

by Ocean Vuong

BJ never had a car and was dropped off each day by her mom.

bruh

Is it possible for a hole to be cut open and for you to step inside it—not to be destroyed, but simply gone? Where on earth was elsewhere possible?

“I forget many things, but I’m learning to be better, I promise.

“I wish I had a desk job.” “You don’t want one. Terrible for your bones.”

We always belong somewhere, if only to whatever’s holding us, and shouldn’t that be a good thing? To have your uselessness become a marker of time, waste being the proof of having lived at all?

knitting

i want to knit

Soft, simple people, who live only once.