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I wasn’t destined for greatness; I knew this. But I was figuring out how to steal it from someone stupid enough to relax their grip on it.
A lot of times when I think I’m being self-sufficient, I’m really just learning to live without the things that I need.
The big thing is so ridiculous that you absorb only the smaller miracles.
I didn’t love them; I was a selfish person and I didn’t understand people all that well, not enough to really feel an emotion as complicated as love. But I felt tenderness for them, which felt, to my little heart, like a kind of progress.
Maybe raising children was just giving them the things you loved most in the world and hoping that they loved them, too.
If it gleamed like it was radiating danger, I’d hold it. I would.
Because I kept fucking up, because it seemed so hard not to fuck up, I lived a life where I had less than what I desired. So instead of wanting more, sometimes I just made myself want even less.
How did people protect themselves? How did anyone keep this world from ruining them? I wanted to know. I wanted to know so bad.
