A List of Cages

by Robin Roe

I’m not sure why people want you to look at them when they’re angry with you. That’s when you want to look away the most.

no one is evil, only unhappy, and unhappiness festers inside like a sore.

Order of the Phoenix is the longest and most potentially dangerous of all the Harry Potter books when used as a weapon.

I’m annoyed with myself for being so bad at things that everyone else can do without trying.

Adam grabs a cupful of soda and hands it to me, then he’s off too, weaving in and out of different groups. I wish I had the ability to talk with people that way. Talking is a talent; he probably doesn’t realize it, but it is.

All of Adam’s friends are so pretty, but she’s like me, one of those people you aren’t supposed to talk to if other people are around to see.

When I was little, I never wondered how I’d do it. I just knew one day I would go everywhere. But when you get older, you realize wanting isn’t the same as having. There are all those places you want to go, but it doesn’t mean you can actually get there.”

Anger is such a waste of time.

I used to think struggle was what aged you, but if that were the case, Julian should’ve been a hundred years old. Now I wonder if the opposite is true. Maybe instead of accelerating your age, pain won’t let you grow.

“I mean, nothing ever bothers you. I guess that’s why everyone loves you. You’re so comfortable with yourself, you make everyone else feel comfortable too. And you’re strong, like what hurts most people can’t hurt you. But sometimes it seems like you don’t need people. Like if this—us—works, you’ll be fine with that, but if it doesn’t, you’ll still be okay. You won’t break. Not the way I would.”

It seems unfair, the way unhappiness flows out of a person, just to ricochet.

Hate ricochets, but kindness does too.

The sick nervous feeling I had just a minute ago has disappeared. Instead I feel something warm spread through my body. People I love will be watching me. Their eyes like safety nets, I can’t fall.

The switch blurs. Red slashes of pain. Pain that isn’t right or mine to take.

It’s as if those kinds of memories are all tied together on a single string. You look at one and you can’t stop seeing them all. Every bad thing you ever did.

“They kept people out. Banned fathers from delivery rooms, family from hospital rooms. They don’t do that so much anymore.” “Why not?” “Because people heal a whole lot faster when they’re with someone who loves them.”

Why is time like that? Why does it slow down in the places you don’t want it to, but it speeds away when you’re happy?”