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It’s like knowing all the words to a song but still finding them beautiful and surprising.
The moon and the stars are involved. I’m certain of it.
The universe stops and waits for us.
Observable Fact: I don’t believe in magic. Observable Fact: We are magic.
I wish I still felt that way. Growing up and seeing your parents’ flaws is like losing your religion.
They don’t know that poverty is a sharp knife carving away at you. They don’t know what it does to a body. To a mind.
How can this be the same day? How can all these people be going about their lives totally oblivious to what’s been happening to mine? Sometimes your world shakes so hard, it’s difficult to imagine that everyone else isn’t feeling it too.
The atoms in my body align themselves with the atoms in his. It’s the way I knew he was still in the lobby earlier today.
“I think all the good parts of us are connected on some level. The part that shares the last double chocolate chip cookie or donates to charity or gives a dollar to a street musician or becomes a candy striper or cries at Apple commercials or says I love you or I forgive you. I think that’s God. God is the connection of the very best parts of us.”
“If we calculate the gravitational forces of all the objects we can detect, it’s not enough to keep galaxies and stars in orbit around each other. There has to be more matter that we can’t see. Dark matter.”
OHHHH
“Dark matter is love. It’s the attracting force.”
“Maybe that’s why we dislike them,” she says. “The distance between who they were and who they are is so wide, we have no hope of getting them back.”
“You don’t get to regret us.”
He majors in English and writes small, sad poems. And even the ones that are not about her are still about her.
