The Way I Used to Be (The Way I Used to Be, #1)

by Amber Smith

A ROOM WITHOUT BOOKS IS LIKE A BODY WITHOUT A SOUL—CICERO.

Why do I feel like, sometimes, I have no one in the entire world who knows me in even the slightest, most insignificant way?

His hands, his arms, can hold the pieces in place temporarily, maybe even for a long time, but he can never truly put them back together. That’s not his job. He’s not the hero and he’s not the enemy and he’s not a god. He’s just a boy. And I’m just a girl, a girl who needs to pick up her own pieces and put them back together herself.

I watch as his body melts down to the floor and I start to understand something too. That this isn’t all about me. This thing, it touches everyone.

five minutes is forever. Five minutes is the rest of your entire fucking stupid life.

All these maybes swimming around my head make me think that “maybe” could just be another word for hope.