Status Updates From Eileen

need her to stop saying odd shit

Looking at my reflection really did soothe me, though I hated my face with a passion. Such is the life of the self-obsessed.

So here we are. My name was Eileen Dunlop. Now you know me. I was twenty-four years old and had a job that paid fifty. seven dollars a week as a kind of secretary at a private juvenile correctional facility for teenage boys. I think of it now as what it really was for all intents and purposes—a prison for children...
In a week, I would run away from home and never go back.
This is the story of how I disappeared.

moshfegh continues to write wretched unlikeable women who i cant help but identify with deeply. the concept of death masks & the facades people put on is universal yet feels personal. feeling this connected to someone so, to be blunt, disgusting is both frightening & exhilarating, although i suppose thats the point: everyones performing, and those that feel they arent simply dont understand themselves well enough.