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“It’s a library, Daphne. If you can’t be a human here, where can you?”
“The library is, like, the single best cross section of humanity,” I tell him. “You meet all kinds of interesting people.”
It’s easy to be loved by the ones who’ve never seen you fuck up. The ones you’ve never had to apologize to, and who still think all your ‘quirks’ are charming. “It’s easy to be around people who don’t know you. But as soon as someone starts to figure you out—as soon as you can’t be perfect—it’s easier to move on. Find someone new to be the cool, fun, laid-back one with.”
“You make the people you care about feel like…” He pauses. “Like you want all of them. Not just the good parts. And that’s terrifying to someone who’s spent a lifetime avoiding those other pieces of themselves.”
This is what you get, a voice taunts in my mind. When you make all the same mistakes again and again. When you choose the wrong people to trust and let down the right ones. When you let someone in who’s told you in every conceivable way not to rely on them. Trust people’s actions, not their words. Don’t love anyone who isn’t ready to love you back. Let go of the people who don’t hold on to you. Don’t wait on people who don’t hurry for you.
The same universe that dispassionately takes things away can bring you things you weren’t imaginative enough to dream up.
The more important thing, though, was that she was too happy with the life she’d built for herself to change it for anyone who didn’t set her world on fire.
