Scientists say every action initiates an equal and opposite reaction. I say that’s just the start. I say every action initiates a most unequal and upredictable chain reaction, that every filament of living becomes part of a larger weave, while remaining identifiable. That every line of latitude requires several stripes of longitude to obtain meaning. That every universe is part of a bigger heaven, a heaven of rhythm and geometry, where a heartbeat is the apex of a triangle.
When I was little, my friends would gush over wedding gowns and honeymoons. But I saw too many people flush decades together down the toilet over money or kids or meaningless flings. My own parents chose to stay married, which I think is rather funny, since they show about as much affection for each other as pit bulls in a ring. Tying the knot means slipping a noose around love and choking it to death.
Love is a fragile thing, easily destroyed by dishonesty.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s to have faith in love.
Denial is a powerful thing. It makes you believe lies.
Mistakes are easy to come by. Why make the same one twice?
I know it may sound weird, but looking death square in the eye made me question the unknown. What happens after we exhale our last breathe? Do we really see an otherworldly light? Does God send angels to guide us home? Or when our eyes close, do we forfeit sight? And will our earthly spirits forever roam?
I do have friends, but they don’t know me, only someone I’ve created to take my place. Someone sculpted from ice.
Her halo was never gold, or it couldn’t have rusted so completely.
There is strength in forgiveness.
Flying Is that what it’s like when you die? Do you slip out of your skin, go soaring up into a butterscotch sky? Do you surf waves of light? How far? How high? I hope that’s what it’s like, but I’m afraid it’s a lot more like falling with no net to catch you, and no way of knowing how hard you will hit or where you’ll stop. Will you touch down back on Earth, or will you land in the nightmare you always feared you’d never wake up from?
I’m right as sin – it’s the rest of the world that’s wrong.
I knew from the start we were nothing like “forever”. Maybe because forever is such a scary place.
Empty is the perfect state of being. Nothing inside to anchor you. Nothing inside to chain you down, keep you from living your dreams. Empty, almost weightless, you are an eyelash afloat on a blink of breeze. You can rise about tension and worry, loosed from the grip of gravity. Adrift in thermal lift, you ride the wing of freedom and soar. Empty, you are Eve in Eden. Empty, you are what you were meant to be.
Without a doubt I understand the monster and I are more than just friends. We’re blood brothers.
Despite every claim otherwise, he’s a coward. And a coward with a gun is treacherous.
This building disguised as a house of worship, was rather like a hive. A backward hive, for honeybees, at least, have the good sense to worship the female that gifts them all with life. They do not hold their drones in such high esteem. But here, is the hive of hornets, the males flitted flower to flower, pollinating, and stinging and injecting their poison.
Why does time erode relationships? Is there a way to avoid its relentless lapping? Is any love strong enough to withstand the chipping away?
What I’ve learned is just how resilient love can be. You can beat it, pound it into pulp, but killing it is hard to do.
Bree is no imaginary playmate, no overactive pituitary, no alter ego, moving in. Hers is the face I wear.