We're All Damaged

by Matthew Norman

Maybe this is how Catholics do it. We accept a certain level of unhappiness—like we have an unhappiness equilibrium built into our brains—and then, one day, we drop dead.

“Daughters,” he says. “You raise them and watch them grow up, and you love them so much it makes you crazy. Then one day some guy shows up. Maybe he’s nice. Maybe he’s got a good job. Maybe he’s got his shirt tucked in and he calls you sir. But he’s never quite what you’re hoping for. If you have one someday—a daughter, I mean—you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

After the age of about . . . what, sixteen? We’re all damaged. Every single beautiful, stupid, precious one of us. Damaged, damaged, damaged.”