No One Belongs Here More Than You

by Miranda July

People tend to stick to their own size group because it’s easier on the neck. Unless they are romantically involved, in which case the size difference is sexy. It means: I am willing to go the distance for you.

If you are sad, ask yourself why you are sad. Then pick up the phone and call someone and tell him or her the answer to the question.

We come from long lines of people destined never to meet.

It’s a skirt. You know it’s a skirt. But doesn’t it seem strange that the well-tailored, flattering piece of clothing that I’m wearing is also called a skirt? Shouldn’t there be a distinction?

I also imagined friends who adored me. These friends think I’m a drag. I fantasize about starting over and eliminating the film of dragginess that hangs over me.

Some people are uncomfortable with silences. Not me. I’ve never cared much for call and response. Sometimes I will think of something to say and then I will ask myself: Is it worth it? And it just isn’t.

I walked down the hall and saw that Theresa was sitting on the floor next to a chair. This is always a bad sign.

I looked at Pip and for a split second I felt as though she was nobody special in the larger scheme of my life. She was just some girl who had tied me to her leg to help her sink when she jumped off the bridge. Then I blinked and was in love with her again.

What a terrible mistake to let go of something wonderful for something real.

I used to get incredibly distracted by her; I was just so amazed at her interpretation of the directions. Like the teacher would say, Trim the excess cloth, and the woman would carefully fold her pink flannel in half, pin it, and then sit back, waiting for the next instruction. What happens when you do the exact opposite of everything you are told?

I went home early to study my apartment before the class. I wanted to look at everything through her eyes. I do this before I bring someone new into my life; I try to get a sense of who I am so that I can make it easier for them to know me.

Past a certain age, they give up on the name games, which is regrettable for someone like me who loves anything that involves going around a circle and saying something about yourself. I wish there was a class where we could just keep going around the circle, around and around, until we had finally said everything about ourselves.

I won’t have a child; I am too old now. Not very too old, just barely. A determined woman might still try, but it is much too late for a woman like me.

At this point I cry because of the love between this injured woman and her partner, and as I cry, I wonder if Ruth said “partner” because they are lesbians. Of course they are, and the paralyzed woman is probably running for governor, too. I cry harder. I’d totally vote for her.

we met at a potluck where we quickly discovered that we were both recovering from a break-up. By the time we stopped talking about our exes, we’d been together for a year.

She had waited patiently from the time she was fourteen for aesthetic surgery to get cheap, like computers.

Poor people who win the lottery do not become rich people. They become poor people who won the lottery.

Over time she knew more and more people who had never seen her with the birthmark. These people didn’t feel any haunting absence, why should they? Her husband was one of these people. You could tell by looking at him. Not that he wouldn’t have married a woman with a port-wine stain. But he probably wouldn’t have.

We talked about everything, including but not limited to: My gray hairs, should I dye them? Could I dye them individually? Could I pay a mouse with a tiny paintbrush to jump on my head and dye them one by one? And why did Tom and Sarah have to fight so much?

Inelegantly and without my consent, time passed.