Janet Fitch

“We strive for beauty and balance, the sensual over the sentimental.”

She was a beautiful woman dragging a crippled foot and I was that foot. I was bricks sewn into the hem of her clothes, I was a steel dress

Didn’t they know they were tying their mothers to the ground? Weren’t chains ashamed of their prisoners

I was, a dog she could tie in front of the store, a parrot on her shoulder

Beauty was my mother’s law, her religion. You could do anything you wanted, as long as you were beautiful, as long as you did things beautifully

“Men,” she said. “No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.”

Only peons made excuses for themselves, she taught me. Never apologize, never

It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have

I wanted to hide, to stop up my ears, but I couldn’t stop watching. This was how love and passion ended. The

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