By the Book

by Amanda Sellet

Give me a simple life with interesting companions, far from the movers and shakers. I’d rather be safe than sorry any day.

How would it feel to be part of a group of friends who were genuinely excited to spend time with you? To have things to talk about, and people to discuss them with who didn’t roll their eyes every time you asked a question?

“Sometimes past associations hold us back. Nostalgia can be a trap. Don’t confuse loyalty and sentimentality,”

It was rare to find someone who truly valued the unique or original. Most people wanted to have what everyone else wanted, as if forming their own opinions was too mentally taxing.

“Imagine how well you could have done if you’d read the whole book.” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “But I like the way you tell it.”

From damned if you do to damned if you don’t: the story of women’s lives.

“You shouldn’t base a relationship solely on physical attraction, though. There needs to be a degree of like-mindedness. You wouldn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t your intellectual equal.”

Who needed the obvious charms of June when you could have the burnished richness of autumn?

“Why do couples break up?” “In my vast experience, you mean?” He shrugged. “Lots of reasons. A person changes. Or loses interest. Or meets someone else.” “But doesn’t that mean they should never have been together in the first place, and the whole thing was a mistake?”

Why do people in books always let themselves do things they know they’ll regret? It’s like they’ve never heard of self-control. I just want to yell at the page, Stop! Before it’s too late!

“It’s the nature of existence. To err is human. We screw up, and then screw up some more.”

“We all have to face our fallibility at some point,” Mom said. “If we didn’t, it would be too easy to turn into sociopaths.”

“Remorse forces us to take a hard look at ourselves. It gives us the strength to grow, and the courage to do the right thing next time—or at least try.

“The part in books where supposedly smart characters screw up their lives because it’s just too hard”—he made a crybaby face, fists twisting in front of his eyes—“to tell someone the truth.” “The truth,” I repeated. “I love you, I miss you, I can’t live without you.” Jasper yawned again. “Whatevs.”

“Being as dumb as the people in books. I always thought I’d be smarter. Make a better choice at the moment of crisis. Take the road less likely to screw up my whole life.” “Yeah, but those people weren’t reading about themselves. They couldn’t, like, peek ahead to the end.” He mimed flipping pages. “It was all happening to them. Boom! In your face!”

Dear Diary, You go your whole life thinking you know exactly which kind of character you are. Virtuous. Loyal. Full of integrity. Brave if the situation calls for it, which hopefully isn’t too often. The hero, not the villain. But what if the bad guys feel the same way? Maybe they aren’t sitting around cackling evilly and twirling their mustaches; they just cut themselves too much slack when it comes to doing what they want.

And even though getting to this point had been graceless and painful, we were probably better off not pretending, or trying to force each other to become different people and resenting it when we couldn’t.

“I’ve never really had a crush on anyone. Or if I did, I didn’t notice. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like. Is that strange?” “Strange is someone who picks off pieces of their own skin and eats it. Your feelings, and nonfeelings, are just part of who you are.”