something about women crying in bathrooms,
always in a hurry, always the violent swiping
under the eyes, pressing at the puffy red blotches, rushing, getting it out, looking in the mirror and then, like a warrior, going back outside to wherever like nothing ever happened and doing it all again. tell me we’re not brave even when we’re hiding.
"I think you can love a person too much. You put someone up on a pedestal, and all of a sudden, from that perspective, you notice what’s wrong - a hair out of place, a run in a stocking, a broken bone. You spend all your time and energy making it right, and all the while, you are falling apart yourself. You don’t even realize what you look like, how far you’ve deteriorated, because you only have eyes for someone else."
