The Infinite Pieces of Us

by Rebekah Crane

I am no longer a whole number. I carry a decimal now. Each box in my room is just a reminder of my remainder. The problem is, I can’t figure out if I’m less than or more than I was before. I know I’m not the same.

“She told me to get used to it. She told me that being a parent meant being perpetually afraid that something might happen to the one thing you don’t want to lose. That every day you’ll worry and think about this possibility to the point of madness, until all that’s left is to throw your hands up and have faith that it’s all going to be OK.”

“Faith and bullshit wear the same clothes. It’s impossible to know which is which.”