Imagine having so much energy to spare after finding food and shelter and clothing and some tiny goddamn scrap of company that you figured you’d make a beautiful silver cup, not because some kid did the best job, but just because she tried the hardest. I try the hardest all the time, and everyone’s just permanently fucking mad at me. Imagine having that much left over that you give one single ghostly shit about the eighth-best daffodil.
