How to Make Friends with the Dark

by Kathleen Glasgow

this book is for the grievers this book is for the left behind this book is for every broken heart searching for a home

You half expect to look down and see your heart hanging out, a slow-beating, nearly dead thing.

I don’t understand how things are keeping going when she has just stopped.

If I close my eyes and wish hard enough, will she come back? Is this some cruel, weird trick by the universe? Like I’ve stepped into the wrong portal by mistake? That’s always happening in books, after all. Maybe by yelling at my mother and telling her those horrible things, I set off some domino effect, tripped a wire in the cosmos, and changed my path and now I’m being taught a terrible lesson.

I crack into so many pieces they will never fit back together, not ever.

What you had left to lose is already gone,

wish I could ask somebody to hold me, or hug me, or tell me everything was going to be okay, and that I could trust them when they said it, but the only person I know who could do all that is gone, gone, gone.

Like lightning, missing her rips through me.

I don’t understand how one minute things are okay, and the next, I’m in this blender of shit.

You must go on. I can’t go on. You must go on. Because what other choice is there, really? You have to make friends with the dark.