I don’t mind his questions, I really don’t. It’s just strange to have someone to talk to. It’s strange to have to exert energy to move my lips to form words necessary to explain my actions. No one has cared for so long. No one’s watched me closely enough to wonder why I stare out if a window. No one has ever treated me like an equal.
Because somehow, even with the encumbrance of such an unfortunate and isolating occupation, she walked through darkness with elegance, navigating the corridors of life and death with a confidence he’d always secretly longed for.
I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, but I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing Kishimoto shut his mouth for longer than five minutes.
My eyes are filling fast with tears and I blink and blink. Our eyes blur the truth when we can’t bear to see it.
Years of practice have taught me to bury my emotions as a reflex – especially in his presence – and it takes a few seconds for the feelings to emerge. They form slowly, infinite hands reaching up from infinite graves to fan the ancient rage I’ve never really allowed myself to touch.
Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future.
Beautiful enough to lure in prey, he said. Strong enough to clamp down and destroy, he said.
I felt the tears streak down my cheeks but I wasn’t crying.
Hi” she whispers. It’s just one word but my heart is already racing.
You wondered if they were right. You wondered if you could fix it. You thought if you could just try a little harder, be a little better, smarter, nicer -you thought the world would change its mind about you.
There are secrets everywhere. Answers nowhere.
Men with guns have never put me at ease no matter how many times they promised they were killing for good reason.
My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together.
You have to deal with who you are and you have to figure out how to live with it.
I’m trying to untangle the truth from the false from assumptions from the postulations but run-on sentences are twisting around my throat.
Suddenly she understood that it is a very hard thing, to be afraid of things, and that it takes up so much time. Suddenly she understood why Mother rarely got around to doing the dishes. “Does.
You can’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. You have to be kinder to yourself. You’ve already been through so much.
Warner. A white bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. A fair – skinned boy with gold hair, the leader of Sector 45. It was always him. All along. The link.
Being afraid meant it was okay to forget your manners. If you’re afraid, you never have to be nice.
He stares until I’m blushing and I decide I hate him a little...