Plus, once he did the requisite double-take and recognized me, he’d probably beat the crap out of any guy who looked at me in all my Snow White meets Frederick’s of Hollywood glory.
I will never forget what you did to me. I will never forgive it. I will never stop mourning what you stole from me. But I realize now I can’t steal it back and I’m done spending every day trying to.
It doesn’t matter if you do everything right, if you dress the right way and act the right way and follow all the rules, because evil will find you anyway. Evil’s resourceful that way.
But you can only go so long being angry before you learn to hate.
I didn’t belong in this world anymore. It’s not that I wanted to be dead, I just felt like I should be.
I think I’ll stay in pieces. I can shift them, rearrange, depending on the day, depending on what I need to be. I can change on a whim and be so many different girls and none of them has to be me.
My jealousy is a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing. Like my rage and my mother’s regret.
I’d watch her, amazed at just how much a person could accomplish fueled by tea and regret.
My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window.
Maybe I don’t need to save her forever. Maybe I can just save her right now, in this moment, and if I can do that, maybe it will save me and maybe that can be enough.
I wish I could have saved you,” he says finally. And this is what it always comes back to. Salvation. Him saving me. Me saving him. Impossibilities, because there is no such thing, and it’s not what we ever needed from each other anyway.
Every normal family is one tragedy away from complete implosion.
His hands are miracles. I can watch them for hours, transforming wood into something it never dreamed of being.
I’m tired of being responsible for other people’s misery. I can’t even put up with my own.
Do real boys actually call girls baby? I don’t have enough experience to know. I do know that if a guy ever called me baby, I’d probably laugh in his face. Or choke him.