The journey from first breath to death has nothing to do with miracles, how much you pray, coincidences, or divine intervention. Sometimes.
It’s become our nightly routine. She stresses out. I soothe her. We make love.
But what if we were just looking for someone to blame because we were all hurting so much?
She raises an eyebrow. “You know what would be even weirder?” “What?” “If another ghost showed up,” she says, grinning. “Then there would be a ghost watching a ghost watch Ghost while in someone else’s body.
Theo mockingly presses his palms to his cheeks. “We finally reached the beach, my little whale.
But right now, I’m going to be selfish and focus on the one person in this world who sees me the way I wish everyone could see me.
It takes approximately two minutes to properly make a bed. That means the average person wastes an entire thirty-eight days of their life making a bed they’re just going to mess up.
I need you to look at me so when I tell you there’s nothing wrong with you, you believe it at least half as much as I do.
Love shouldn’t feel like added weight. It should make you feel as light as air. Asa made everything in my life heavy. Luke makes me feel like I’m floating. I guess that’s the difference between being loved the right way and the wrong way. You either feel tethered to an anchor... or you feel like you’re flying.
Sometimes I feel like I am. I’m sure it’s not all that deep yet. We haven’t been together that long. We argue a lot more than I’d like. But I feel it. Right below the surface. Tingling. Keeps me awake at night.
I’m a work in progress. Maybe I always will be. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like a final draft, and I’m not sure I want to. The search for myself is becoming my favorite part of my new journey.
He broke up with her two weeks ago.
It’s not any more difficult than bottle-feeding them,” Prancing Nurse said. “It’s actually more convenient. Do you want to try it? See how it goes?
She says my name like it’s a gun and she’s firing a warning shot and I’m suppose to run. I sprint.
Most kids get the kind of parents that’ll be missed after they die. The rest of us get the kind of parents who make better parents after they’re dead.
Did you know eleven in the morning is the deadliest time of day?” That makes me laugh. “Is that a fact?” She nods. “I learned that in college. More.
I forgot what it felt like for someone else to need me. Want me. Like me.
I want to fight for you because I know that’s what Scotty would want me to do.
I want so badly for them to heal, but the loss of a child is a wound that never heals.
Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child.
She’s responsible for the accidental death of someone she was in love with. As if that wasn’t hard enough, she went to prison for it and was forced to give up her own child.