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He made himself the cure, which wouldn’t have been necessary if he hadn’t also created the disease.
Life felt like hell, because we expected it to feel like heaven. The quote I read years ago went something like that, but I never understood it. When you’re in the thick all your life, living in ways you eventually figure out no one else is, you learn to sleep well in heat and eat fire. Until one day it’s all you need.
People assumed I behaved strictly on impulse, when actually, it required quite a bit of strategy being this fucked up.
We had to change to survive.
“You teach your daughter to hide in everyone else’s world,” I shot back, “and I’ll teach mine everyone else exists in hers. Go fuck yourself, and leave the kid alone.”
“It’s a reason. Plain and simple. There’s always a reason why things are as they are.”
I just never seemed to come out of anything with him unscathed, did I? In body or in mind.
To have a lifetime of searching for something. Or to have five minutes of everything.
How did he always break my heart, especially in ways I loved?
“Because I was afraid of life without the hope of you to look forward to.”
“Our life is a series of plans,” she finally said. “Days, weeks, months, years… And then, there are moments. Moments you don’t see coming and you don’t plan, but everything you need, all the things you want to feel, are in that moment.”
