My Year of Rest and Relaxation

by Ottessa Moshfegh

“I wanted to be an artist, but I had no talent,” I told her. “Do you really need talent?” That might have been the smartest thing Reva ever said to me.

“Sometimes I feel dead,” I told her, “and I hate everybody. Does that count?”

Die young and leave a beautiful corpse. Who said that?” “Someone who liked fucking corpses.”

I felt nothing. I could think of feelings, emotions, but I couldn’t bring them up in me. I couldn’t even locate where my emotions came from.

“But why do you care? It’s not a contest.” “Yes, it is. You just can’t see it because you’ve always been the winner.”

I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

BTVS mentioned!

I was thinking I’d get my pills from Reva’s, go home, and then I could hit the sleep for ten straight hours, get up, have a glass of water, a little snack, then ten straight more. Please!