Stephanie Foo

I care about how I seem to fuck everything up all the time. I care and I care, and I hate myself for it.

Everything—everything, all of it—is infected. My trauma is literally pumping through my blood, driving every decision in my brain.

It is this totality that leaves me frantic with grief.

Of course I was wrong to think I could walk into fancy institutions full of well-bred, well-educated people and succeed.

ut she played along gamely the entire time, smiling and laughing and teasing me, as if she were just like them.

When someone wrongs you, never keep it in your heart. Let it go.

When the sky falls, use it as a blanket

It didn’t matter if my parents were proud of me. I was proud of me, and that was the most important thing.

a belief that I could prevent disaster if only I was vigilant enough.

My first instinct was to just delete the bug. Remove my terrible code from the system entirely.