"She was brilliant but she didn’t have a grain of sense"

Have you read the Flannery O'Connor short story "Good Country People?"

Here's a brief synopsis: Mrs. Hopewell has a 30-year-old daughter named Joy. Joy has a Ph.D. in philosophy, is an atheist, and legally changed her name to Hulga. Hulga has a wooden leg and a heart condition. One day a bible salesman named Manley Pointer visits the Hopewell home. Manley appears to be a simple country boy and a devout Christian. When Manley leaves the Hopewell home, he strikes up a conversation with Hulga. Hulga agrees to meet him the next day to go on a picnic. They meet the next day and Manley spends most of the conversation telling Hulga that she is special. Different. Fascinating.

They kiss. They go to a barn and climb up into the loft. Manley asks to see her wooden leg. Hulga says no. Manley tells her he likes her leg because it is what makes her different. She shows him the leg, takes it off and on - at his urging - and then shows him how to put it off and on - also his request. He takes her leg and throws it out of reach.

She gave a little cry of alarm but he pushed her down and began to kiss her again. Without the leg, she felt entirely dependent on him. Her brain seemed to have stopped thinking altogether and to be about some other function that it was not very good at. Different expressions raced back and forth over her face. Every now and then the boy, his eyes like two steel spikes, would glance behind him where the leg stood. Finally, she pushed him off and said, “Put it back on me now.”

He pulls a hollow Bible out of his suitcase and produces lewd cards, a flask, and a box of condoms. Hulga is confused and disappointed. Manley was supposed to be a good country boy. He takes Hulga's leg and starts to leave with it. As he leaves he tells her he took a woman's glass eye once.

“One time I got a woman’s glass eye this way. And you needn’t to think you’ll catch me because Pointer ain’t really my name. I use a different name at every house I call at and don’t stay nowhere long. And I’ll tell you another thing, Hulga,” he said, using the name as if he didn’t think much of it, “you ain’t so smart."

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When I was a teenager my mother told me that I was like Hulga. "You are so smart, Amanda, but you let them take your leg. Every time you let them take your leg."

And I do. Every. Single. Time.

I operate under the delusion that almost everyone is good. People make bad choices because they are broken in mind, heart, body, or spirit. I can see the good in almost anyone. You have to be blatantly cruel for me to label you a Not Nice Person.

I'm smart. I like reading and thinking. I adore academia. I'm brilliant but I don't have a grain of sense.

Someone recently took my leg and all I can feel is stupidity and shame.

Nothing else much to write except I'm vowing to embrace wariness and skepticism. I don't have much left that people can take and I really need to hold on to what's left of me.