“The beanstalk felt like sandpaper".”

“I have a rough marriage. It feels like sandpaper, only not as soft and gentle on the anus.”

“Introverts crave meaning, so party chitchat feels like sandpaper to our psyche.”

“Home. The word still tastes like sandpaper in my mouth. But it makes Mom smile—a tired, true smile—so it’s worth it.”

“Suffering is the sandpaper of our incarnation. It does its work of shaping us.”

“When I tell her I feel like the other woman, she laughs, that's just learned sexist bullshit. We are all in charge of our own bodies and what we decide to do with them. We are all our own. I believed it when she said it, like she'd opened up a new valve that had been stuck. I felt unconfined and open-minded and totally confused. Intellectually, non-monogamy made complete sense; emotionally, it felt like sandpaper across my eyelids.”