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I am not happy, help me — like a message in a bottle sent in each meal to the eater, and I got it. I got the message.

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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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She is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.
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Pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.
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Before she knew it was candles, did she think she’d done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips.
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I don’t think so, I don’t agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.
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I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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