Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.
It was like we were all so busy trying to be happy or saying we were happy, but underneath there was nothing but bitterness, the kind that could only be bled out in ink, in unspoken word.
I’d dressed up and hoped and I was so tired of doing that, so tired of dreaming and being unable to stop it despite the fact that I’d seen, maybe better than anyone here, what dreams could do to you.
Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.
Then I heard someone laugh. I wished I didn’t know whose laugh it was, but I knew Will’s laugh just like I knew he had a small scar right above his left elbow. You couldn’t be reluctantly lust-ridden for someone without noticing stuff about them.
I think you’re the saddest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re drowning in it.
He looks trapped, helpless and furious, and that’s a feeling I know too well. Know how much it hurts. Know how it holds you down, how every day there are a thousand little ways to see there is nothing you can do to change who or what you are.
Anger can try to break your heart, but sorrow is what will. What can. What does.
Sometimes being me is very confusing.
My full name is Lauren Lee Smith. Of all the names I could have been given, that’s the one I got. Lauren Lee Smith. It has all the personality of a toaster.
Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy. Being happy makes you want to talk, to go over everything, to share it so you can remember it all over again.
I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I have always thought I am.
And now I see what has been there all along, what I’ve noticed but never truly understood until now. Eli is as uncertain as I am, as we all are. Life has surprised him like it has me. Has hurt him like it has me.
Wherever I go, I’ll always see you. You’ll always be with me. And there’s no happy ending coming here, no way a story that started on a night that’s burned into my heart will end the way I wish it could. You’re really gone, no last words, and no matter how many letters I write to you, you’re never going to reply. You’re never going to say good-bye. So I will. Good-bye, Julia. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.
I am the living dead girl because I am too weak to die.
And in the end blood and tears are alike because they stop too.
I will always know what life can take, but I am ready to see what it can give.
I know I should say he suddenly seemed vulnerable and I felt a connection to his soul or whatever, but the truth is I just wanted to tackle him and then make out for the next three thousand years.
You can plan all you want, but you will never know what will be. Life just is, and I am here in it. I am waiting for what comes next.
I sit next to Caleb, waiting and thinking about what life really is. About how it has its own will. How it shows you things that rip you open, tear your world apart. How it unfolds even when you think it can’t. How it takes you places you never thought you’d be. Shows you things you never knew you wanted to see. Brings you pain – and joy.