If you don’t want to be in an argument with someone, it is probably best to try to solve the problem, rather than lying around hoping the other person will do it for you.
They do sometimes go crazy, these people, because the world is telling them not to want the things they want. It can seem saner to give up-But then one goes insane from giving up.
There will be all these fifty-year-old women wearing hot pants and squeezing themselves into pretzel shapes and then there will be me. Just reaching for my toes like they’re China. ‘Hello there! You’re so far away, I can’t get to you! Can you even hear me?
There’s something about seeing a guy’s feelings written down, something about him taking that risk and committing that heart to paper, that means so much more than anything he could just say.
My problem is I can think whatever I think-girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah – but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.
Frankie appreciated both the accolades and the rejections equally, because both meant she’d had an impact. She wasn’t a person who needed to be liked so much as she was a person who liked to be notorious.
Maybe a friend is someone who wants your updates. Even if they’re boring. Or sad. Or annoyingly cutesy. A friend says “Sign me up for your boring crap, yes indeed”-because he likes you anyways. He’ll tolerate your junk.
…a box where she was expected to be sweet and sensitive (but not oversensitive); a box for young and pretty girls who were not as bright or powerful as their boyfriends. A box for people who were not forces to be reckoned with.
