Shadow Me (Shatter Me, #4.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

I’m lonely but I’m not alone. My body works, my brain works, I’m alive. It’s a good life. I have to make a conscious effort to remember that. To choose to be happy every day. If I didn’t, I think my own pain would’ve killed me a long time ago.

“Kishimoto, if I considered other people’s mediocre standards a sufficient metric by which to measure my own accomplishments, I’d never have amounted to anything.”

Everyone thinks I’m not supposed to give a shit—that I shouldn’t—but I do. I always do. And I give a shit about this asshole, too.

“I don’t think you do, actually. In fact, I hope you don’t. I wouldn’t want you to know how I feel right now. I wouldn’t wish that for you.”

I’m so happy for my friends. I love them, even when they piss me off. I care about them. I want their joy. But it still hurts a little when it feels like, everywhere I look, everyone seems to have someone. Everyone but me.

Instead, I’m a big, raw, bleeding heart, and I spend my days pretending not to notice that I want more. That I need more. Maybe it sounds weird to say, but I know I could love the shit out of someone. I feel it, in my heart. This capacity to love. To be romantic and passionate. Like it’s a superpower I have. A gift, even.

“You reek of it.” He nods at me, my body. “You’re practically emanating lovelorn agony.”

They clearly have crazy chemistry. Their relationship never made a lot of sense to me—I couldn’t understand how someone like Warner could be an emotional partner to anyone, much less someone like Juliette: a girl who eats, sleeps, and breathes emotion. I rarely saw him emote anything. I worried that Juliette was giving him too much credit, that she put up with too much of his bullshit in exchange for—I don’t even know what. A sociopath with an extensive coat collection?

Because it’s not the pain that’s unendurable. It’s the hopelessness. It’s the hopelessness that makes you reckless.