In My Dreams I Hold a Knife

my dad was the angry man in the dark place, true. But maybe he was also this man—this bright and funny father. I’d always thought it was one or the other, fixed and definite. But maybe it was more complicated. Maybe he was both.

my dad was the angry man in the dark place, true. But maybe he was also this man—this bright and funny father. I’d always thought it was one or the other, fixed and definite. But maybe it was more complicated. Maybe he was both.

Wanting is dangerous. The less you want, the safer you’ll be.

“Ten years from now, we’re going to be on top of the world together. You and me, looking down on everyone else, laughing and laughing.”

want to look back in ten years and know I did everything right.” No more second place, no more punching down.

I think I hate my father, too.

The ink on the story of my dad and me was dry. The book was shut.

That was who we were going to be forever, him and me—never close, never forgiven, never redeemed.

The real you—whoever she is—will get what she wants in the end

keeping my gaze trained on my feet, like I was eight years old again and embarrassed to exist.