4.0

I also had a bunny who I found dead when I was 10. RIP, Oreo.

This book was a very-needed reminder that we are deeply lovable even (especially?) at our worst.

This book was also a welcome reminder that Catholic ritual is weird and exclusionary and the perfect expansion pack for anyone whose parents never validated their pain. Bonus: It brought me back to 8th grade Stations of the Cross when my gay best friend played Jesus and I played Mary Magdeline (lol) and carried his watch in my wooden jar of “sacred oils and spices” so he wouldn’t lose it or break the 4th wall by revealing that God wears Guess.

Seriously though, I couldn’t put this down.