We Begin at the End

by Chris Whitaker

Whenever anything fucked up happens in the world, there’s always a man.”

None of us are any one thing. We’re just a collection of the best and worst things we’ve done.

Sometimes she expected more, a clue, something wilting or graying or not carrying on, something that told her the world was a different place now her mother was dead.

life is fragile. And sometimes we hold on too tight, even though we know it’ll break.

“Some people are all dark.”

the good stand by idle, are they still good?”

“Death has a way of making saints out of mortals.

you get one great love. And you’re lucky if you find that. Anything less might as well have been nothing.”

We endure, right. That’s what we do for those we love.

Tragedy has a way of making saints out of sinners.