More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. KAHLIL GIBRAN
No thunder to accompany the hole being ripped open in the middle of my chest.
I must wear my weakness like armor—my shield a magnet, drawing up evil that lurks within everyone who dares to get too close.
Even when I’ve tried so hard to be seen, I’ve always been invisible.
Sometimes we cover our skin to hide the sins of our past.
That doesn’t change the way my body wears the trauma like a second skin.
I’ve never had anyone share their scars to help me find comfort in my own.
“My point is, little bird, I understand hiding your past beneath the surface—under pretty colors and inked up skin.”
“You can tell me all your secrets, Lily,” he whispers into my skin. “I promise I’ll keep them safe.”
My life is the type of movie you only watch once, and then warn others not to waste their time.
So I won’t tell Alex all my secrets. But I’ll keep his safe all the same.
Some scars are too deep to show. The slightest tug makes them rip, fester, and ooze all over again, and I’ve worked too damn hard over the years trying to staunch the bleeding and numb the ache. Still, Alex gave me something of himself, and my stomach jumbles around, wanting to give him something more back.
“And who gets to be what you need?”
“You’re the only thing I need, little bird.”
I want to say that sometimes broken pieces are ingrained too deep. That no matter how many times you sweep them up, there are fragments left behind. And eventually, those shards become part of you, the thought of digging them out too painful to bear.
“You can stop singing for everyone in the world, little bird, but not for me.”
Love. What a bullshit word. What a bullshit concept. If this is love, I’d rather drown in someone’s hatred. At least then, I’d know what to expect.
My body felt the trauma that my brain couldn’t yet grasp.
“I don’t hate anyone. Life is too short, and I’ve learned that hate won’t do anything but keep you from learnin’ how to love. Everyone makes mistakes.”
The thing about active addiction is that you’re a slave to the drugs that flow through your veins. You become someone else entirely. You’ll hurt, lie, cheat, steal. Anything to get that next fix. It becomes the only thing that matters.
And this is where I stay, holding the other half of my soul, soaking up her pain and letting it settle on my skin. I’ll bear the weight for now, and hope she lets me stay to help her weather the storm.
