[b]Ottessa Moshfegh
The idea that my brains could be untangled, straightened out, and thus refashioned into a state of peace and sanity was a comforting fantasy.[/b]
On the other hand, how comforting can a fantasy really be?
I could plan to do something and then find myself doing the opposite.
So, plan the opposite then.
Some families are so sick, so twisted, the only way out is for someone to die.
And, with any luck, it’s not you.
Having a trash chute was one of my favorite things about my building. It made me feel important, like I was participating in the world. My trash mixed with the trash of others. The things I touched touched things other people had touched. I was contributing. I was connecting.
Oddly enough, people really do think things like this.
…in my frenzied state of despair, I understood: there was stability in living in the past.
All the way back to Miners Mills, for example.
Oh, sleep. Nothing else could ever bring me such pleasure, such freedom, the power to feel and move and think and imagine, safe from the miseries of my waking consciousness. I was not a narcoleptic—I never fell asleep when I didn’t want to.
Don’t kid yourself. It’s coming for you.