Well, but you can eat Grandma’s cookies. They’re not bad for you. They were made by Grandma. Grandma wouldn’t hurt you.
10-5 space 16-5-14-19-5 space 17-21-5 space 10-5 space 20-1-9-13-5.
It seems to me that all the things we keep in sealed boxes are both alive and dead until we open the box, that the unobserved is both there and not.
He loved the scratching of pencil against paper when he was focused: it meant something was happening.
Sunlight feels warm and rough against your skin like a kiss on the cheek from your dad.
The five of us walking confidently in a row, I’d never felt cooler. The Great Perhaps was upon us, and we were invincible. The plan may have had faults, but we did not.
And then I screwed up and the Colonel screwed up and Takumi screwed up and she slipped through our fingers.
You could hold me and I could hold you. And it would be so peaceful. Completely peaceful. Like the feeling of sleep, but awake in it together.
Colin had always preferred baths; one of his general policies in life was never to do anything standing up that could just as easily be done lying down.
Because you’re my friend, wingnut.
You can’t dingleberry that! That’s a flagrant misuse of the dingleberry!
Imagine others complexly.
And I wrote my way out of the labyrinth.
It was not an eventful day. I should have done extraordinary things. I should have sucked the marrow out of life. But on that day, I slept eighteen hours out of a possible twenty-four.
If you act out of a paranoid fear of something happening, you will always make that thing happen.
Like the way the sun is right now, with the long shadows, and that kind of bright, soft light you get when the sun isn’t quite setting? That’s the light that makes everything better, everything prettier, and today, everything just seemed to be in that light.
More than anything, I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can’t due to deadness, and then I leaned forward, my forehead against the back of Takumi’s headrest, and I cried, whimpering, and I didn’t even feel sadness so much as pain.
Something about me has always liked the drama and inconvience of bad weather. The worse the better, really.
I realized it in waves and we held on to each other crying and I thought, God we must look so lame, but it doesn’t matter much when you have just now realized, all the time later, that you are still alive.
Cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next.