This was a little house, with a ceiling that kept getting higher and higher, a hot place with no windows. This was anger.
Helen OyeyemiHowever awful the storm of my disappointment, it's a response that belongs to me. It's my heart, after all. My territory, my kingdom. And since I'm the only one with the authority to surrender it, I can also take it back.
Helen OyeyemiPlease tell me a story about a girl who gets away." I would, even if I had to adapt one, even if I had to make one up just for her. "Gets away from what, though?" "From her fairy godmother. From the happy ending that isn't really happy at all. Please have her get out and run off of the page altogether, to somewhere secret where words like 'happy' and 'good' will never find her." "You don't want her to be happy and good?" "I'm not sure what's really meant by happy and good. I would like her to be free. Now. Please begin.
Helen OyeyemiIt occurred to me that I was unhappy. And it didnโt feel so very terrible. No urgency, nothing. I could slip out of my life on a slow wave like thisโit didnโt matter. I donโt have to be happy. All I have to do is hold on to something and wait.
Helen OyeyemiThe girl was lighter without her heart. She danced barefoot on the hot roads, and her feet were not cut by the glass or stones that studded her way. She spoke to the dead whenever they visited her. She tried to be kind, but they realised that they no longer had anything in common with her, and she realised it, too. So they went their separate ways.
Helen Oyeyemi