she’s not as pretty as you,” I said
“But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered.
Tags: white-oleander
What was beauty unless you intended to use it, like a hammer, or a key? It was just something for other people to use and admire, or envy, despise. To nail their dreams onto like a picture hanger on a blank wall. And so many girls saying, use me, dream me.
Janet FitchTags: beauty
Someday I would have lovers and write a poem after
Janet FitchTags: lovers
I felt on the verge of something, a mystery that surrounded me like gauze, something I was beginning to unwind.
Janet FitchIsn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.
Janet FitchTags: love hate hatred use cradle soft enjoy humiliate sculpt tiring
I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners?
Janet FitchTags: mothers chains prisoners ashamed know mortified
You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem.
Janet FitchTags: age love poem touch boy beautiful mild
I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.
Janet FitchWhat can I say about life? Do I praise it for letting you live, or damn it for allowing the rest?
Janet FitchTags: life hope live praise bitter damn
A womans mistakes are different from a girls
Janet FitchTags: woman different mistake girl
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