June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

tragedies just happen—and how we get through them, what we do after, is our only true power over them.

If my father hadn’t murdered my mother, I would still just be the neighbor boy and she would be the girl next door. Instead, he branded us with a label, forced me into something twisted. He turned the only girl I’ve ever wanted into the only girl I can never have.

Lines were starting to blur. And if there’s anything in this world that can mess a man up inside and drive him to the brink of insanity, it’s a blurred line.

But here’s the thing about trying to bury something that isn’t dead— Sometimes it comes back, madder than ever.

And that’s the terrifying thing about keeping a secret that can rip your whole world apart. Sometimes you hold on too tight and spring a leak. Bits and pieces start to spill out, little by little, and before you know it all your ugly, shameful truths have been exposed.

There’s no going back once there’s a leak. All you can do is mop up the spillage and pray the damage isn’t more than you can bear.

“Sometimes we need a little push from the people who love us.”

“You just need to be brave that first time, then all the other times come easy.”

but sometimes the enemy isn’t always black and white. Sometimes the monster slips through undetected, disguised as things we don’t expect. Sometimes, the monster is already inside.

We’re happy here. We’re untouchable. We’re forever young.

But here’s the thing about firsts— There’s always a last.

“There’s no Luigi without Mario,”

Tragedy changes people. It alters them permanently.

“You’re not responsible for the way others react to what you need to do to get better.”