I’m currently reading My Life as A Rat by Joyce Carol Oates. It gets worse and worse. She amazes me that the characters go to such horrible places but it’s so emotionally true. Anyone with half a brain knows this is how life goes. I keep wishing for happy endings and they are possible but inevitably they aren’t located on the outside but rather inside. Like difference between the person who realizes they have to learn the thing in A flat and gives up vs. the one who spends time there every day.