“I was looking for a love unlike my parents’ love or my sister’s love or the love on a foreign kitchen floor. I wanted my own kitchen to keep clean and full of bread and milk and hot sauce and a big clean empty sink where I could wash my dishes. I wanted to forgive my mother and father for their misery and find myself a light man who lived buoyantly and to be both his light and his dark, serious baby.”
— Rebecca Dinerstein, The Sunlit Night (via fragmentarie)
“I wanted so badly to talk to you. We’d gone from speaking every day to radio silence. What could I say though? Nothing I wrote felt right. Besides, did you even want to hear from me? Anyways, it felt selfish of me to reach out for my own comfort. All I could do is hold my breath and find my own kind of closure.”
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