You’re a smell: big deal. You’re a taste: so what? You’re a touch: I’ll find another one. No reason to fuss over things I could easily find in just anyone else.
She’s always fine. She has no time not to be. They’re counting on her, because she always has her shit together. She’s always fine.
Today, I still struggle; I’m still scared. My legs still buckle under me, my feet still fight me over the steps I take.
Isn’t the definition of insanity to repeat something hoping for a different result?
When and why had he become so important? What had given him this right?