More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She’d been told countless times that getting tattoos was like putting a bumper sticker on a Bentley, and each time, she’d laughed them off and joked that she was a Corolla at best.
She wanted to panic, to completely lose it, to let herself finally fall to pieces. To let herself cry, scream, beg, and rage. To shatter into shards so small she wouldn’t see herself in any of them. But, damn it, she just wasn’t built that way.
In the end, dying was both a massive pain in the ass and a relief.
“Mouthy doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. If it did, I would have far fewer coworkers.”
It was a primal thing, hardwired into every living creature: the desire to avoid death.
“when you are hugging a child, always be the last one to let go. You never know how long they need it.”
Her feelings had always been too intense, for her and certainly for her parents. The conclusion she’d come to as a child was that because dealing with her emotions was such an unsavory prospect, her emotional needs were best ignored. As she got older, she realized that emotional vulnerability was downright dangerous, at least in their community. When things had gotten too overwhelming, she’d found an outlet of some kind and let off some steam.
She never knew where the line of rejection would be drawn, which activities she enjoyed or which parts of her personality would be deemed inconvenient or unsavory, and that fear had, in many ways, kept her from living.
Our first thoughts about a situation are seldom what we actually believe. They are what we have been conditioned to think, or sometimes they truly are random spits of consciousness. But our second thoughts, ah, that is where we are. It has helped me, working in this position, to forgive myself for my terrible first thoughts, and to pay more attention to my second thoughts.”