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Kindle Notes & Highlights
She looks so much like a cupcake that when I first met her at orientation, I had a very real desire to eat her.
That not being understood is a privilege I can’t afford. That I can’t believe this woman got paid to come here. That I think she should apologize to trees. Spend a whole day on her knees in the forest, looking up at the trembling aspens and oaks and whatever other trees paper is made of with tears in her languid eyes and say, I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry that I think I’m so goddamned interesting when it is clear that I am not interesting. Here’s what I am: I’m a boring tree murderess.
Their cheeks are plump and pink and shining like they’ve been eating too much sugar, but actually it’s Gossip Glow, the flushed look that comes from throwing another woman under the bus.
A pause so pregnant it delivers, consumes its own spawn, then grows big with child again.
She gives me the full hate bouquet of her smile. Every fuck you flower.
