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.
Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that’s what it’s like, I wouldn’t mind.
Who says I breathe music? Who says I even breathe?
..all I left with was the magnitude of my mistake, of my missing you. And I have to watch you from this distance, watch you achieve your dreams, live what seemed like this perfect life.
I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.
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 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.
I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.
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.
Even if you find him. Even if he didn’t leave you on purpose, he can’t possibly live up to the person you’ve built him into.
I realize then that it's not enough to know what someone is called. You have to know who they are.
I get it now. I have to make good on my promise. To let her go. To really let her go. To let us both go.
You know, I thought about that a lot these last couple of years," She says in a choked voice. "About who was there for you. Who held your hand while you grieved for all that you'd lost?
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.
As the lightness buoys me, I wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe it's not about looking hot for guys, but about feeling like a place acknowledged you, winked at you, accepted you. It's strange because, of all the people in all the cities, I'd have thought that to Parisians I'd be invisible, but apparently I'm not. Apparently in Paris, not only can I skate, but I practically qualify for the Olympics!
Loving someone is such an inherently dangerous act. And yet, love, that’s where safety lives.
I`m surrounded by people and feel alone.
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.
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.
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.
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.
And if I'm not forgiven, then at least I'm understood.
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