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Mostly because I was proud of my depression. I’d read somewhere on the internet that it was a sign of extreme intelligence, and I’d started to consider depression as some type of X-ray vision, with which I could see the world clearly in ways that others could not—that is, not only the skin but also the skeleton.
It was not so much the deadness of the body, but the sudden weight of it, emptied of breath. Gone.
A white family, when somebody dies, they all start talking about money.
a lie is a failure of respect.
their four-year stints at Exeter, and their daddies who were
Because my first reaction to anything fucked up that happens to me is to pretend it never existed.
Say something is bigger than you, like much bigger, like a lot; is it really your fault if you cannot stop it?
