A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

by Dave Eggers

and otherwise we lose weeks like buttons, like pencils.

We are always late, always half-done.

I am never sure whether our incompetence derives from our situation, or just my lack of organization—though of course I publicly blame the former.

For a while it was “last year.” Then it was “a year and a half ago.” Now, much to BROTHER’s relief, it’s “a few years ago.”

yes, I could be out, enjoying this freedom specifically and that of youth generally, exulting in the richness of my time and place. But no. I will be here, at home.

if she, the date-person, does not ask about the passed-on parents, she is unthoughtful, rude, weightless, too young, selfish.

I find myself seeking out others mangled by bizarre familial machinery, those whose parents are dead, or dying, at least divorced—hoping that these people will know what I know, and thus will not hassle me about the details, about give and take, about my contributions.

I who have been through so much and already feel so old,

and when he came home his brother was there, of course had been there the whole time, of course had never left.

I want to save everything and preserve all this but also want it all gone—can’t decide what’s more romantic, preservation or decay.

also serve as foils to the black person or people, who will be much sharper and savvier, but also easily offended, and will delight in raking the dumb people over the coals week after week.

she swallowed the chaos, sequestered it there, and there it festered and grew and darkened and then was cancer.

always. Sometimes it’s hard. Yeah. Sometimes it’s so hard. I mean, you can’t always suffer. It’s hard to suffer all the time. But I suffer enough. I suffer sometimes.

Why do you want to share your suffering? By sharing it I will dilute it.

at any time, someone could be watching

If you don’t want anyone to know about your existence, you might as well kill yourself. You’re taking up space, air.

I am twenty-four but feel ten thousand years old.

Something bad will happen to me, I know, I know this because I have seen it so many times.

I pull up to a light, next to a bunch of young black kids. Maybe they’ll shoot me.

He has a complete sort of freedom, with no parents and no dependents, with money and no immediate threats of pain or calamity.

we’ve had our time, we don’t need a goodbye

actor. The most important thing I’ve learned is that the past can be a block to the future.

to be able to just fucking once do something, be able to do something simple and normal

I will slip and tell them things they don’t want to hear.

Oh that’s when you knew you had really said something funny, when she would be crying, wiping her eyes, you had her then, you really wanted that, there was no greater thing, no achievement so great, so stirring, you tried to play it casual, deadpan, but you were so proud and thrilled, watching her, you wanted her first to say Stop! Stop! because you were so funny but you would continue because you wanted her to laugh more, to really laugh until she would have to rest, to half collapse on the kitchen counter while you were sitting at the table after school, Oh you’re awful! she would say. Stop! Oh but to see her laugh you would say anything, and she so loved a good laugh

loss sows the seeds of renewal.

She was not ready, not even close, was not resolved, resigned, was not ready—

And we will be ready, at the end of every day will be ready, will not say no to anything, will try to stay awake while everyone is sleeping, will not sleep, will make the shoes with the elves, will breathe deeply all the time, breathe in all the air full of glass and nails and blood, will breathe it and drink it, so rich, so when it comes we will not be angry, will be content, tired enough to go, gratefully, will shake hands with everyone, bye, bye, and then pack a bag, some snacks, and go to the volcano—