“I was starting to wonder if I was ready to be a writer, not someone who won prizes, got published and was given the time and space to work, but someone who wrote as a course of life. Maybe writing wouldn't have any rewards. Maybe the salvation I would gain through work would only be emotional and intellectual. Wouldn't that be enough, to be a waitress who found an hour or two hidden in every day to write?”

 

parents are sleeping

me: alright better be quiet they need some sleep

i'm sleeping

parents: ok it's time to vacuum for hours and yell at each other and put glass in the garbage disposal and land a helicopter on the roof