Lalaine ( Ficbookreviews )’s Profile

"I hope it's sunny at my funeral."
And if I really am wicked, I hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

"I hope it's sunny at my funeral."
And if I really am wicked, I hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.

We cry in our own rooms, remembering a man who will never be here again.
The house creaks. Maybe it feels the weight of our grief, maybe the floorboards are buckling because the burden is too heavy.

Now I see him clearly, even through the rain and distance, I see him perfectly. Tears try to blend in with the rain, but fail. I see his tears. His precious, pained tears.
And all I can do is stare.
Something within me shifts.
Annoyance to curiosity,
Impatience to sympathy.
Reluctance to desire---desire to understand how and why he can weep like the rain.

Love is a sliver of sunlight peeking through the darkness; a whisper of hope when all is lost.

Now the world will see what I am. Vulnerable. Ugly. Evil. Lost. Sad. Angry. Numb.
And dead.


Connor's hand, rough with calluses, holds mine. If I had a heart, it would be in my hand--a solemn offering to be held in the palm of his, desperate to be comforted and held like a soft, delicate thing.

His heartbeat is the most beautiful sound in the world.

People can change... no matter where they come from, no matter where they think they ought to go, people can make their own way.

That's all you need, cher. A few people in your life who fill it up and give you good memories to hold onto.

Wasting time is a stupid thing to do in this big ol' ugly world.