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The only problem with anger is that it burns hot and fast. It doesn’t tend to burn long. Sadness burns long. Grief. Disappointment.
I needed to not be at work today. I needed to sit around my house without a bra, my hair in a weird bun, watching reruns of Schitt’s Creek. My eyes were still puffy, and I was a soft breeze away from losing it again—and I got my period. I get to bleed for a week without the sweet release of death.
I’m canceling my bikini-wax appointments. Just gonna let the forest reclaim the land, succumb to my inner swamp witch.”
“You know what I think about? I think about perfect matches. You know how with an organ donation a perfect match isn’t really perfect? There’s still a chance of rejection, even if all the stars align like they did for you and Benny. Nothing is ever perfect. There’s just matches that have a higher chance of working than others. Maybe you guys were like that. It could have worked, but you’d spend your whole life forcing it.”
“I always think that when we’re quiet, we’re agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we’re just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.”