I’m distracted, so overwhelmed with my own little world that I forget there are other things going on outside of it. So in love with romantic notions of what is and isn’t that I get carried away. And that’s what got me, this concept that everything would turn out okay, that I was some heroine in a story of Winston, when that was not at all the case. I’m just as destined for that cursed soil as my mother, and her mother before her.
