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was like watching a Seventeen magazine article come to life, where the models look like they’re laughing about something you just wouldn’t understand.
We’re really into loss, depression, and martyrdom, except at parties where we dance and discuss whose kid is graduating cum laude from Princeton or who just had a baby.
I wish I had gaydar. I wish it were something you could pick up in a store.
Hospitality is never in short supply in Persian homes. Among Persians, the more a person loves you, the more they want to shove food down your throat.
I feel like I have been punched in the vagina.
“Nice girls are boring, Leila. Everybody knows that.”
no one is ever really honest. We talk to one another but never really say anything. We hide from things that are uncomfortable, things like death.”
I want to stop living in fear. I want to stop coming up with excuses about why I’m not interested in dating. I want my family to know me. I want to get to learn more about Lisa. I want to stop feeling like everything I am is inadequate or makes me unworthy of love because of something I can’t help.
“You’re my daughter. I am never going to hate you. I might be angry with you, or disappointed, but I will love you until I don’t have any breath left. You understand that?”
How do people do this? How do people work up the courage to be themselves even if it means facing rejection from people who love them? Why don’t people get medals for this?
What scares me the most, though, is the possibility that Lisa will figure out that I’m not good enough, and she’ll leave me. And I’ll have to do it alone. I don’t think I could manage it.
