Conversations with Friends

by Sally Rooney

I enjoyed playing this kind of character, the smiling girl who remembered things.

I loved when he was available to me like this, when our relationship was like a Word document that we were writing and editing together, or a long private joke that nobody else could understand. I liked to feel that he was my collaborator. I liked to think of him waking up at night and thinking of me.

Suffering wouldn’t make me special, and pretending not to suffer wouldn’t make me special. Talking about it, or even writing about it, would not transform the suffering into something useful.

You know, I still have that impulse to be available to you.