It's like the psychiatrists themselves are buying into that stupid belief that therapy is something to hide.
We make messes of our lives, but every now and then, we manage to do something that's exactly right. The challenge is figuring out which is which.
Once the world was pulled out from beneath your feet, did you ever get to stand on firm ground again?
What’s the difference between spending your life trying to be invisible, or pretending to be the person you think everyone wants you to be? Either way, you’re faking.
Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.
There was a difference between people looking at you because they wanted to be like you, and people looking at you because your misfortune brought them one rung higher.
Why do some memories bleed out of nowhere and others stay locked behind doors?
For someone who can’t remember very much, there seems to be a lot I can’t forget.
Why are you doing this to yourself? When something bad happens, why do you have to pick at it until it bleeds all over again?
Accidents did not just happen. From time to time they were carefully plotted, calculated, and arranged to one’s advantage-all, of course, under the cloak of happenstance.
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade.
You can be strapped to the most stable chair and still feel the world give way beneath you.
The English judged a person so that they'd be justified in casting her out. The Amish judged a person so that they'd be justified in welcoming her back. Where I'm from, if someone is accused of sinning, it's not so that others can place blame. It's so that the person can make amends and move on.
When you don't know where you're headed, you find places no one else would ever explore.
I don't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't want to tell myself it's over when it's not.
It was the first time she'd discovered something she really didn't want to find, and she didn't know what to do once she'd found it.
The brain of a person in love will show activity in the amygdala, which is associated with gut feelings, and in the nucleus accumbens, an area associated with rewarding stimuli that tends to be active in drug abusers. Or, to recap: the brain of a person in love doesn't look like the brain of someone overcome by deep emotion. It looks like the brain of a person who's been snorting coke.
When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.
Eric understands that the world is rarelythe way it is supposed to be. And he knows that, given the chance, we don't have to wait for someone to make messes of our lives. We do a good enough job, ourselves.
Sometimes we don't know we're dreaming; we can't even fathom that we're asleep.
Memories aren't stored in the heart or the head or even the soul, if you ask me, but in the spaces between any given two people.
What could you give me," I ask, my voice shaking, "to make me forget ... that you forgot about me?
If you want to know someone's story, they have to tell it aloud. But every time, the telling is a little but different. It's new, even to me.
...when they look at me, I so badly want to be who they see.
When you're a parent you find yourself looking at the unknown that is your child, trying to find a piece of yourself inside her, because sometimes that is what it takes to claim.
"Everyone still deserves to have their say."
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