Stuff I Wish I Wrote. #1

Good Bones, By Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, in a thousand, deliciously, ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children.

The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.  For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake.

Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children.

I am trying to sell them the world.  Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.

 

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