Losing me will hurt; it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.
Once the options increase, settling on one becomes harder.
Can you move on from something when you're not sure what it is you're moving on from?
And if I'm not forgiven, then at least I'm understood.
What is the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?
I think everything is happening all the time, but if you don't put yourself in the path of it, you miss it.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to have had her company in my head—the comfort that would’ve brought.
I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.
I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.
Part of me knows one more day won't do anything except postpone the heartbreak. But another part of me believes differently. We are born in one day. We die in one day. We can change in one day. And we can fall in love in one day. Anything can happen in just one day.
...being Lulu, it made me realize that all my life I've been living in a small, square room, with no windows and no doors. And I was fine. I was happy, even. I thought. Then someone came along and showed me there was a door in the room. One that I'd never even seen before. Then he opened it for me. Held my hand as I walked through it. And for one perfect day, I was on the other side. I was somewhere else. Someone else. And then he was gone, and I was thrown back into my little room. And now, no matter what I do, I can't seem to find that door.
In the lead-up to the launch of my new book I Was Here, I’ve seen a lot of discussion about depression and suicide and mental health and YA dealing with such intense matters. What I haven’t seen discussed is kittens.
I just wanted to tell you that I understand if you go. It’s okay if you have to leave us. It’s okay if you want to stop fighting.
Because I understand all the ways of trying to escape, how sometimes you escape one prison only to find you've built yourself a different one.
Loving someone is such an inherently dangerous act. And yet, love, that’s where safety lives.
Something given, something taken away. Does it always have to work like that?
The truth and its opposite are flip sides of the same coin.
Sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love.
Girlfriend is such a stupid word. I couldn't stand calling her that. So, we had to get married, so I could call her 'wife.
I`m surrounded by people and feel alone.
It's like the piano and the cello are being poured into my body, the same way the IV and blood transfusions are. And the memories of my life as it was, and the flashes of it as it might be, are coming so fast and furious. I feel like I can no longer keep up with them but they keep coming and everything is colliding, until I cannot take anymore. Until I cannot be like this a second longer.
Adam is crying and somewhere inside of me I am crying, too, because I'm feeling things at last. I'm feeling not just the physical pain, but all that I have lost, and it is profound and catastrophic and will leave a crater in me that nothing will ever fill.
Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. I don't know when exactly I started giving myself this daily pep talk--or why. It sounds like a twelve-step mantra and I'm not in Anything Anonymous, though to read some of the crap they write about me, you'd think I should be. I have the kind of life a lot of people would probably sell a kidney to just experience a bit of. But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I'll get through today.
Whoever said that the past isn't dead had it backward. It's the future that's already dead, already played out.
(P)eople’s good intentions can wind up putting us in boxes as confining as coffins.
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