If You Could See the Sun

To live well, you must learn to see yourself first.

Henry, whose head is resting against my shoulder, the soft curls of his hair brushing my cheek, his features smooth and unguarded in sleep. And everything about this moment is so lovely and so fragile in its loveliness that I’m almost afraid to hold it. Afraid that the spell will break.

I would rather spend the rest of this train ride fighting with him than let him be trapped alone with his thoughts and fears again

Mama always says there are no ugly women, only lazy women—but from what I’ve gathered, it’s more like there are no ugly women, only broke women

“Everything’s a form of power,”

Descartes was wrong, you know, when he said, ‘To live well, you must live unseen.’ To live well, you must learn to see yourself first. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

It’s nothing like the way they describe it in the movies, like all the stars aligning and fireworks exploding across an ink-black sky. It feels both quieter and bigger than that, as simple as coming home and as dizzying and all-encompassing as the wind rushing in around us. It feels like a thousand banished and buried moments have been building up to this—to us alone and untethered and weak with wanting—and maybe they have.

spent my whole life longing to be seen, but I’ve also come to realize that when people look too closely, they inevitably notice the ugly parts too, like how the tiny cracks on a polished vase only become visible under scrutiny

You’re still a kid, you know.”

it’s nice to have an adult tell me everything will be okay. Even if I’m not so sure that’s true.