We are like Humpty Dumpty and all these king's horses and all these king's men cannot put us back together again
There are like twenty people in that waiting room right now. Some of them are related to you. Some of them are not. But we're all your family.' "She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. 'You still have a family,' she whispers.
I might have been eleven years old and a little socially immature, but I recognized a gauntlet being thrown down when I saw it, and I had no choice but to take it up.
Sarcasm creates a chasm between yourself and others.
Bribes are the glue that's kept teenagers and parents connected for generations
And now I am here, as alone as I've ever been. I am seventeen years old. This is not how it's suppose to be. This is not how my life is suppose to turn out.
It's okay if you want to go. Everyone wants you to stay. I want you to stay more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. But that's what I want and I could see why it might not be what you want. So 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.
That’s the thing you never expect about grieving, what a competition it is.
You don’t share me. You own me.
And the voice grows stronger and stronger, and it’s my voice this time and it’s asking a question: How does she know?
We'll tell our secrets to the dark"-Adam "Okay"-Mia "So let's hear another of your irrational fears"-Adam "I'm scared of losing you"-Mia "I said 'irrational' fears. Because that's not gonna happen"-Adam "It still scares me"- Mia
The boogeyman sleeps on your side of the bad Whispers in my ear :"Better of Dead" Fills my dreams with sirens and lights of regret Kisses me gently when i wake up in a sweat "boo!
Someone wake me when it's over When the evening silence softens golden Just lay me on bed of dover Oh, I need help with this burden "Hush
But I'd do it again. I know that now. I'd make that promise a thousand times over and lose her a thousand times over to have heard her play last night or to see her in the morning sunlight. Or even without that. Just to know that she's somewhere out there. Alive.
I've become to realize there's a world of difference between knowing something happened, even knowing why it happened, and believing it.
Adam lay perfectly still, little groans escaping from his lips. I looked at the bow, looked at my hands, looked at Adam's face and felt this surge of love, lust, and an unfamiliar feeling of power.
I know what I did to you was so wrong, but at the time it also felt so necessary to my survival. I don't know if those two things can both be true, but that's how it was.
I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it.I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.
The audience keeps singing, keeps making my case, and I just keep strumming until I get close enough to see her eyes. And then I start singing the chorus. Right to her. And she smiles at me, and it’s like we’re the only two people out here, the only ones who know what’s happening. Which is that this song we’re all singing together is being rewritten. It’s no longer an angry plea shouted to the void. Right here, on this stage, in front of eighty thousand people, it’s becoming something else. This is our new vow.
My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.
She's still beautiful. Not in an obvious Vanessa LeGrande or Byrn Shraeder kind of way. In a quiet way that's always been devastating to me.
Neither sleet nor rain nor a half inch of snow will compel me to dress like a lumberjack.
In that twisted incestuous way of fate, Mia's a part of our history, and we're among the shards of her legacy.
One day she told me that they'd decided that my gender was divvied into two neat piles-Men and Guys. Basically, all the saints of the world: Men. The jerks, the players, the wet T-shirt contest aficionados? They were Guys.
I like French fries," I say. I like French fries? I sound like a slow child in a made-for-TV movie.
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