Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

by Cheryl Strayed

And then there was the real live truly doing it.

Important thought here.

They were the world I could lose myself in when the one I was actually in became too lonely or harsh or difficult to bear.

Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren’t a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.

But no one laughed. No one would. The universe, I’d learned, was never, ever kidding. It would take whatever it wanted and it would never give it back.

He hadn’t loved me well in the end, but he’d loved me well when it mattered.