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And it begins, as so many stories do, with a dead girl.
Except it’s not in my head, it’s in my heart, and she’s the same woman who told me if you’re going to follow anything, it might as well be that.
A body might not always be beautiful, but a body can be a beautiful deception. I’m stronger than I look.
Every little thing about you can be a weapon, if you’re clever enough.
I always forget fear is a conquerable thing but I learn it over and over again and that, I guess, is better than never learning it.
I’m going to kill a man. I’m going to steal the light from his eyes. I want to watch it go out. You aren’t supposed to answer violence with more violence but sometimes I think violence is the only answer. It’s no less than he did to Mattie, so it’s no less than he deserves.
we’re no better or worse than the people we walk amongst.”
I stare at the stars dotting the ink-black sky. The farther we get from the bar, the more stars there are to see and it’s beautiful and the beauty makes me ache. I didn’t tell Mattie enough about this kind of thing, I don’t think. About small miracles, like the stars at night and how much brighter they seem in wintertime. The sun rising and setting and rising again.
Paul taught me a person committed to silence can suggest importance, strength. So long as they’re a man, I mean. It’s not an option when you’re a girl, not unless you want people to think you’re a bitch.
Looking at the stars is looking into the past.
I forget that at times, I was a kid, that I did kid things. That I read about the girls I dreamed of being. That I did things like play in the dirt and make mud cakes. Drew pictures myself. Caught fireflies in the summertime.
Sometimes I don’t know what I miss more: everything I’ve lost or everything I never had.
But love is complicated, it’s messy. It can inspire selflessness, selfishness, our greatest accomplishments and our hardest mistakes. It brings us together and it can just as easily drive us apart. It can drive us.
