180 Seconds

by Jessica Park

We are not goddamn statistics. We will never be. We are the exception, and we are exceptional. Got it?”

“Hold on to your one. Remember? I have you, and you have me. And when you’re lucky enough to find one—just one—person in this unforgiving life who makes everything worth it, who you love and trust and would kill for, then you hold on damn tight, because that’s probably all you get. We got this,”

“It’s going to hurt until it doesn’t anymore.”

As much as I avoid people, certain types of crowds are ironically my friend.

YOU CAN’T REACH WHAT’S IN FRONT OF YOU UNTIL YOU LET GO OF WHAT’S BEHIND YOU.

Whether I like it or not, he is taking in pieces of me, just as I am taking in pieces of him, too.

You want inside my head? Fine. You have no idea how messed up I am. Go ahead. Drown like I do.

Sometimes, the unexpected happens. Sometimes, someone makes you break your own rules.

Discovering everyone has a hidden story, a reason for their behavior.”

The painting? Yes, it’s violent. But it helps express what happened. It gives me power. A visual way for me to expel that night. It’s a positive thing.

But secrets will pull you under and drown you.

And passion has its upsides as well as its downsides. It . . .” She taps her hand on the open door. “It evokes tremendous generosity and tremendous hurt.