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336 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 5, 2018
We are all anthologies. We are each thousands of pages long, filled with fairy tales and poetry, mysteries and tragedy, forgotten stories in the back no one will ever read.
"Gandalf is depressed," Kip explain to me with a prim nodded. "He also suffers from multiple personalities. He's a Great Dane who thinks he's a lap dog." We’re comparing the dog’s personality to having depression and Dissociative Identity Disorder?
...some young British actor from the Royal Shakespeare Company with a schizophrenic ability to sound like completely different men and women...
...
"Or S.O. is his sixth personality, as he has secretly suffered from schizophrenia for years." Schizophrenia and Dissociative Identity Disorder are not the same thing...
Sat up with me all night helpin' me write my essay about Momma Greer. 'Mommy Bipolar.' Otherwise known as 'How to Survive in the Custody of a Complete Lunatic'. Let’s call people with mental illness ‘complete lunatics’, shall we?
Her negligence had led to a pit bull, chained up in the backyard, attacking Kipling when he was five, biting off three fingers on his left hand, and leaving him with a "mini shark bite" on his chin—disfigurations he paraded like a Purple Heart.
"I'd call off your pit bull of a mom," said Cannon. This one isn’t even clever? It’s referring to this girl’s mom calling the police on the main characters for harassing their daughter. How does that make her a pit bull?
It’s so easy to hate the pretty one, worship the genius, love the rock star, trust the good girl.
That’s never their only story.
We are all anthologies. We are each thousands of pages long, filled with fairy tales and poetry, mysteries and tragedy, forgotten stories in the back no one will ever read.
Hysteria. Panic. Fury. Despair. Fear. Alarm.
Friendship, when it runs deep, blinds you to the outside world.
Look around. It's almost gone.
If only someone had told me that before. About life. If only I had understood.
Jim’s death had been the earthquake that swallowed cities. Although I had spent the past year certain my friends knew much more about it than they’d let on, I also knew with every passing day the truth was drifting farther out of reach.
The people who change us are the ones we never saw clearly at all, not until they were gone.