Unravel Me (Shatter Me, #2)

by Tahereh Mafi

But nothing is working and all my parts are broken.

I’ve never been able to follow through.

Tells me too much with his eyes, so much that I have to look away because I feel it all too acutely.

I always wanted to believe I just got lucky.

“This is kind of like that. Your boy is a freaking train wreck.”

I feel like now might be a good time to jump off a cliff.

We have a million things to take care of down here, and less than none of them involve your love life.” A pause. “Is that clear?”

“You don’t—you don’t want to be with me?”

my guy this is simply not that serious- you're only 18. it's gonna be okay

And I hate that it has to be this way. I hate it so much I could scream. But maybe we can try.

and we're bck to being insufferable juliette

I wanted to believe in fairy tales and happy endings and pure possibility.

It’s strange. How hollow I feel. Like there might be echoes inside of me.

“All you do is sit around and think about your feelings. You’ve got problems. Boo-freaking-hoo,” he says. “Your parents hate you and it’s so hard but you have to wear gloves for the rest of your life because you kill people when you touch them. Who gives a shit?”

kenji strikes again

“It’s stupid, and it’s ungrateful. You don’t have a clue what everyone else in the world is going through right now. You don’t have a clue, Juliette. And you don’t seem to give a damn, either.”

“Now I am trying,” he says, “to give you a chance to fix things. I keep giving you opportunities to do things differently. To see past the sad little girl you used to be—the sad little girl you keep clinging to—and stand up for yourself. Stop crying. Stop sitting in the dark counting out all your individual feelings about how sad and lonely you are. Wake up,” he says. “You’re not the only person in this world who doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. You’re not the only one with daddy issues and severely screwed-up DNA. You can be whoever the hell you want to be now. You’re not with your shitty parents anymore. You’re not in that shitty asylum, and you’re no longer stuck being Warner’s shitty little experiment. So make a choice,” he says. “Make a choice and stop wasting everyone’s time. Stop wasting your own time. Okay?”

Mortification. I’m draped in it. Painted in it. Buried in it.

“Thanks for the offer,” I tell him. “But I’d really rather jump off a cliff.”

“So much talk,” Anderson says, shaking his head. “So much talk and never enough follow-through. You embarrass me,” he says to Warner, face twisted in repulsion. “You make me sick.”

i have to agree with anderson on this

and I’m enjoying it. I’m enjoying it so, so much.

And I would enjoy it.

Calm! Of course I was calm. I was definitely absolutely everything that is the opposite of calm.

The antonym of excellent. The antonym of excellent. The antonym of excellent.

eager to believe I’m capable of something I know I’m not

I’m all out of letters. Fresh out of words. Someone has robbed me of my entire vocabulary.

Maybe all of this is some kind of cosmic joke told at my expense.

And I think, Wow, I did it. I actually managed to die of a stroke at age 17.

What a lie appearances can be. What a terrible, terrible lie.

“Do you like Shakespeare?” he asks me. An odd segue.

My thoughts shock me.

I actually laugh, look up to meet his eyes. “I cry too much. And I’m not interested in conquering the world.”

“Castle knows what he’s doing,” Kenji snaps. “You don’t need to have an opinion. You will defer to his judgment.”

kenji, that's HORRIFYING

I’m definitely screaming.

I’m agony. I’m sobbing

“Don’t be frightened, love,

warner is literally harry styles from fanfiction

All at once I feel like an idiot.

and I count out the number of times I’ve been stupid and I run out of numbers.

the truest words that have ever been written

“You destroy me.” I am falling to pieces in his arms.

I want to be worth your time.”

“It’s the play of a coward,” he says. “I thought you were so much better than that.” “I’m not a coward—” “Then be honest with yourself!” he says. “Be honest with me! Tell me the truth!”

“The truth,” I tell him, “is that I never know what to think of you! Your actions, your behavior—you’re never consistent! You’re horrible to me and then you’re kind to me and you tell me you love me and then you hurt the ones I care most about!

bestie, he has literally NEVER been "that" horrible to you. tbh it's a stretch to say he was ever horrible to you

I’ve got work to do. People to save. Ladies to impress. He’d respect that.”

We try very hard not to die.

So this, I think, is what it feels like to die.

It’s too bad I’m already so close to dead.

“Why don’t you care?” He’s breathing so hard now. “How can you not care? Why don’t you care that she’s bleeding to death—I thought you were her friends—”

And I can’t help but think this is an interesting parting gift from the world. That at least, in the end, I didn’t die alone.

Mass chaos is in my future.