I should be happy, but instead I feel nothing. I feel a lot of nothing these days. I've cried a few times, but mostly I'm empty, as if whatever makes me feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving me hollowed out like a shell.
The great thing about this life of ours is that you can be someone different to everybody.
The thing I realize is, that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.
It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting.
We are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial.
Sorry wastes time. You have to live your life like you'll never be sorry. It's easier just to do the right thing from the start so there's nothing to apologize for.
I thought: Just one step. One step at a time. You don’t have to do them all at once.
You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.
You make me lovely, and it's so lovely to be lovely to the one I love.
What if life could be this way? Only the happy parts, none of the terrible, not even the mildly unpleasant. What if we could just cut out the bad and keep the good? This is what I want to do with Violet - give her only the good, keep away the bad, so that good is all we ever have around us.
I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.
The problem with people is they forget that most of the time it's the small things that count.
I learned that there is good in this world, if you look hard enough for it. I learned that not everyone is disappointing, including me, and that a 1,257 bump in the ground can feel higher than a bell tower if you're standing next to the right person.
Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own - my words are gone.
Music did that to me, just like God was supposed to, because music seemed both magic and holy.
I remember running down a road on my way to a nursery of flowers. I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn't. I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.
It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other easily understood disease just to make it easier on me and also on them.
Hope you're keeping the dust out of your eyes and your feet off the ground.
I just sat there letting that music cover me like a big, cozy blanket.
No more winter at all. Finch, you brought me spring.
People rarely bring flowers to a suicide.
But I bring it up to let you know that this is the way I feel right now. Like Pluto and Jupiter are aligned with the earth and I'm floating.
I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Some lipstick would go with this truck, I thought.
You need shoving, not pushing. You need to jump back on that camel. Otherwise you're going to stay up on the ledge you've made for yourself.
Right before my eyes, I could see my life going away from me and there was nothing I could do.
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