I don't sulk; I brood. Like Batman.

Disturbing things always seemed to happen on Tuesdays.

Like being unwell was a crime or a scam or a self-indulgence.

The thing is, Red...some of us have so many marginalizations, we might drown if we let all the little hurts flood in. So there are those, like me, who filter. I think you've noticed that I filter a lot. It's not some inbuilt shield made of money. It's just something I'm forced to do...And that's not to discount the differences between us that fall in my favor. It's just an explanation.

I’m going to stay and I’m going to love you and I’m going to try. You taught me how much that matters.

Excuse me, universe,” she whispered to the kitchen floor. “When you almost murdered me today—which was rather brutal, by the way, but I can respect that—were you trying to tell me something?” The universe, very enigmatically, did not respond.

And now she was mortified. She wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, as if she could disappear inside it. This was what came of liking men: rampant idiocy. She opened her mouth and searched for a way to digherself out of that particular hole.

I don’t know which half of my brain is the smart half and which half is all emotional and shit.""Maybe the smart half is all emotional and shit.""Yes, I’d been afraid of that.

Your abilities lie in the places people usually overlook, so you’ve been convinced you don’t have any at all. But you’re smart, and you’re capable, and if people struggle to see that, it’s their problem, not yours.

Whether something bad is coming from your body or your brain, it makes no difference. Still feels like shit, right? Still hurts. Still needs fixing. They shouldn't have dismissed you. Even if it was in your head. When it comes down to it, everything we feel is in our heads.