You are poor, bright, and beautiful, but you never feel quite bright or beautiful enough because your best friend is brighter and beautifuller.
Your best friend has never forgiven you for being the first to experience menarche or being allowed to progress beyond primary school. Ever since, she’s been competing with you over just about everything.
You feel an unnameable, shameful aversion to your mother, whose limping gait you are afraid you will come to adopt.
Naples is trash, and you grow up to realise that you live amongst trash.
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