I Am the Messenger

by Markus Zusak

I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her. Nothing, however, exits my mouth. How well do we really let ourselves know each other?

He says, ‘Now listen up, boys. I want you to meet Ed. Ed, this is Joe, Graeme and Joshua.’ I shake all their hands. ‘Fellas, this is Ed Kennedy.’ ‘Nice to meet you, Ed.’ ‘Hi, Ed.’ ‘How’s it going, Ed?’

the boyzzzzz

It’s a good thing, I know. But how can a good thing suddenly feel so sad? I’ve wanted this from the beginning.

I feel like I just sat down at some point and said, ‘Right, this is Ed Kennedy.’ Somewhere along the line, I feel like somehow I introduced myself. To myself. And here I am.