My Friends

by Fredrik Backman

the only people who don’t think that teenagers are the best humans are adults. Which is obviously because adults are the worst kind of humans.

Adults always think they can protect children by stopping them from going to dangerous places, but every teenager knows that’s pointless, because the most dangerous place on earth is inside us. Fragile hearts break in palaces and in dark alleys alike.

Fish was murdered by reality. She was suffocated by the claustrophobia of being trapped on this planet, she died of being sad all the time.

In a world full of sledgehammers, his art was a declaration of war.

“Being human is to grieve, constantly.”

Art teaches us to mourn for strangers.

“If you were his friend, I’m sorry. Because the whole world lost an artist, but you lost your human. And I’m sorry you had to share that with the rest of us. You should be allowed to have your grief in peace.”

It’s hard to say “I love you” when you’re fourteen years old. And completely impossible to dare to whisper: “Don’t hurt yourself, because you’d be hurting me too.”

“I could never have lived there on my own. I would have frozen to death in that apartment without his eyes on me.”