Here's a little aside, which was not part of the treatment center memoir. Enjoy!
For lunch Taylor washes and dries an organic Bosc pear and puts it on a plate. She grabs a paring knife and a napkin and takes them, along with the pear on the plate, into the living room and turns on the TV. She sits on the couch with the plate in her lap. She picks up the pear and brings it to her nose and sniffs its ripe sweetness. She turns it around in her hands, admiring its smooth, unbruised nut-brown surface. She waits another minute, just to delay her pleasure, to test her will, and then she carefully cuts out a thin slice of the fruit—so thin she can almost see through it—and brings it to her mouth.
The texture is wrong. It’s mealy. It’s a surprise and a big disappointment. She’d thought it was going to be perfect, that it was a perfect pear. She spits out her mouthful, back onto the plate. She is still for a few seconds and then she picks up the pear and throws it hard at the wall above and behind the TV ten feet in front of her whereupon the pear breaks instantly apart and falls to the floor, leaving a wet splotch along with some little pear-meat chunks stuck to the white paint.
Then Taylor stands up and hurls the plate at the same wall. And then the knife.
Very well written... terrifying 🫣💚
I love it when I get one of these in my inbox.