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A man who prides himself on his ancestry is like the potato plant, the best part of which is underground. —Spanish proverb
I’m pleading with my loved ones to wake up and love more. —Kate Tempest
He sounded like he was heading to church. His voice was the choir. Soft, understanding, sorry.
I don’t know how to stop the variables.
She has trouble telling the truth.
Who cares where we dream?
He says it makes him feel warmer. I think this is why I like Mike.
Control the brain, and the rest is easy.”
Ever since I could tally myself, I am half here.
The question is: What am I even doing here?
maybe the answer is to constantly do things and never get anywhere.
I’m sixteen years old and the only constant in my life other than my mother is our potato pot. The answer has something to do with potatoes. It has to.
A man I never met—a man whose name I don’t even know—he’s crippled everything about me.
If you ask me, it’s ironic that our ancestors were able to avoid poisoning themselves on the plants, and yet rose to poison the whole world with themselves.”
Marla had her own robins and sometimes she cried about them, too.
No contact with the children because we want them to thrive.
Dead is dead.
Air travel turns normally sane people into animals.
He’s trying to finish the puzzle before it finishes him.
Everyone knew James was gay. Just nobody seemed to know he was depressed.
I pity anyone who says gimme. The world is going to be a giant disappointment for you.
Gimme-gimme-gimme: the battle cry of millions of people every day. People who want.
We’re all products of convenience.
My birth canal was coated in cravings.
Tradition gets away with lots of shit around here.
“No one wants a challenge after they die,
We do what we do to get what we need.
Growing up ruins everything.
She hugs like a baby robin eats. Desperate and determined.
People on coke are awful.
maybe we’re all walking around heartbroken because we just want to be loved in a way that isn’t even possible.
She’s a human, not a door.
I love Eleanor because I’m alone in the world. And that’s no reason to love anyone.
Marla hasn’t been the same since she fell.
she has to see these people she made—people who don’t really love her. Or people she doesn’t really love. She can’t figure out which came first.
Truth isn’t so bad once you look at it. It’s like throwing up after drinking a whole fifth of bourbon. It’s a purging that makes you feel better, not worse.
I wanted a family, not another mystery. But maybe all families are mysteries.
Taking things for granted is the privilege of existence.
We have names. We’re just so used to being labeled, we took to it.
Belief systems are all pretty much the same if you peel back the layers.