If everything kept to its normal progression, we would live with the sadness-cry and then walk-but what really breaks us cleanest are the losses that happen out of order.
AIMEE BENDERIf everything kept to its normal progression, we would live with the sadness-cry and then walk-but what really breaks us cleanest are the losses that happen out of order.
AIMEE BENDERand I get refill number three or four and the wine is making my bones loose and it’s giving my hair a red sheen and my breasts are blooming and my eyes feel sultry and wise and the dress is water.
AIMEE BENDERI was right at the edge of their circle, like the tail of a Q…
AIMEE BENDERSometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
AIMEE BENDERThis is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
AIMEE BENDERNot getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
AIMEE BENDERIt seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.
AIMEE BENDERListen. Look. Desire is a house. Desire needs closed space. Desire runs out of doors or windows, or slats or pinpricks, it can’t fit under the sky, too large. Close the doors. Close the windows.
AIMEE BENDERMom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
AIMEE BENDERI like birthday cake. It’s so symbolic. It’s a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just ‘Happy birthday!’ because it’s this emblem of childhood and a happy day.
AIMEE BENDERMany kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
AIMEE BENDERThe most so far, because she found the saddest thing of all to be the simple truth of her capacity to move on.
AIMEE BENDERWhen language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing; it’s rejuvenating.
AIMEE BENDERThat she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
AIMEE BENDERThe stories themselves haunt, they stick around, they linger, inhabiting a little corner of the reader’s brain and resurfacing to evoke mystery or sadness or longing.
AIMEE BENDERI’m obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s.
AIMEE BENDER