She Never Inquired, But She Never Recoiled,

It Is Terrible To Have To Ask For Anything Ever. We Wish We Were Something That Needed Nothing, Like Paint. But Even Paint Needs Repainting.

… It Wasn’t Pretend, I Wasn’t In A Fairytale Or A Fable. I Shut My Eyes And Absorbed The Silent Whoomp That Always Accompanies This Revelation. It’s The Sound Of The Real World, Gigantic And Impossible, Replacing The Smaller Version Of Reality That I Wear Like A Bonnet, Clutched Tightly Under My Chin.

I Spend A Lot Of Time Obsessing About Getting A Dignified Eight Hours' Sleep.

She Never Inquired, But She Never Recoiled, Either. This Is A Quality That I Look For In A Person, Not Recoiling.

Life Is Just This Way, Broken, And I Am Crazy To Hope For Something Else.