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Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.
THIS IS WHY I STARTED READING! wow. i feel seen
Déjà vu. Déjà su. Déjà vécu. Already seen. Already known. Already lived.
And Sam. Wrapped in a white sweater and pale gray jeans, her body like a brushstroke, long and lean and bright against the backdrop of the darkened roof. Her hair is longer now, wild blond curls escaping a messy bun. Streaks of red paint dab her forearms where the sleeves are pushed up, and Addie wonders, almost absently, what she’s working on. She is a painter.
Dang I totally assumed Sam was a guy
“Small places make for small lives. And some people are fine with that. They like knowing where to put their feet. But if you only walk in other people’s steps, you cannot make your own way. You cannot leave a mark.”
And the woman does not ask what for, only stares, unblinking as she goes. The door groans shut, and Addie knows, as she walks away, that she will never see her mother again.
with how much i love my mother this would kill me
Time moves so fucking fast.
he advises you to find another path, and he assures you that you’ll find your calling, but that’s the whole problem, you’ve never felt called to any one thing. There is no violent push in one direction, but a softer nudge a hundred different ways, and now all of them feel out of reach.
my fucking life
“I mean, it’s only been a week.”
lmaoooo
“This is need. And need is painful but patient. Do you hear me, Adeline? I need you. As you need me. I love you, as you love me.”
