Sad Janet: A Novel

by Lucie Britsch

I have to get up and get myself to work, and I do both those things and feel like a goddamn hero. My boyfriend does the same, but it’s no big deal to him, which is annoying. He’s annoying.

The world was her enabler.

Melissa and I are both vegans—working with animals will do that—but we’re nonpracticing.

I never understood why no one said, Fuck off, I don’t need your permission to feel my feelings. I didn’t need your permission to accept my stretch marks, and I don’t need it for this either.

I heard they’re witches, others say, and we might be if we ever got our shit together. All women are witches if they can be bothered,

People make such a big deal out of having a family, but when it comes down to it, you just do it. You make mistakes, sure, but you keep plugging away.

My brother once told me he was thinking about getting a dog, but then he got a cat, so he’s dead to me.

I think about things like this a lot, because as a woman I’m hard-wired to always be thinking about babies even if what I’m thinking is that I definitely don’t want any.

I want to be seen, but at the same time I want to be invisible.

We’re breaking each other’s hearts over and over, which is exactly why I avoid this kind of unnecessary interaction.

They smile and tell me what nice eyes I have, which means the rest of my face needs work.

She says, I have my kids and my own shit, but you’ve got me.