Tell The Wolves I'm Home

by Carol Rifka Brunt

Maybe it should be a crime to try to see things about people they don’t want you to see.

You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.

That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright.

felt like I had proof that not all days are the same length, not all time has the same weight. Proof that there are worlds and worlds and worlds on top of worlds, if you want them to be there.

“Don’t you know? That’s the secret. If you always make sure you’re exactly the person you hoped to be, if you always make sure you know only the very best people, then you won’t care if you die tomorrow.”

“No, no. It’s the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven’t done everything they want to do.

thought how many small good things in the world might be resting on the shoulders of something terrible.

really wondered why people were always doing what they didn’t like doing. It seemed like life was a sort of narrowing tunnel. Right when you were born, the tunnel was huge. You could be anything. Then, like, the absolute second after you were born, the tunnel narrowed down to about half that size. You

That all the jealousy and envy and shame we carried was our own kind of sickness. As much a disease as Toby and Finn’s AIDS.