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You had to choose sides. And you always chose the person who didn’t fuck everything up. You chose the person who was stuck with you.
We didn’t understand how normal this was, to be young, to believe that you were destined to make beautiful things.
I thought that the saddest thing that could happen was that something inside your head worked so hard to make it into the world and then nothing happened.
Every single thing that you loved became a source of both intense obsession and possible shame. Everything was a secret.
“Here’s the thing, sweetie. If you love something, you can’t think too much about what went into making it or the circumstances around it. You just have to, I don’t know, love the thing as it is. And then it’s just for you, right?”
Why did everyone want things to move forward, and why did I want to be frozen in a block of ice?
maybe everything is an accident. Maybe nothing in the world is intentional. Maybe everything that has ever happened and ever will happen is some dumb mistake. So who cares if you apologize?
I think you’re really smart and I think you’ll do fine. But I also think it’s not so bad if you never quite feel right in this world. It’s still worth hanging around. You just have to look harder to find the things you love.”
and it made me feel, for the first time, that maybe it was dumb to be embarrassed about weird things if you were really good at them. Or not good. If they made you happy.
and I thought, What if I ruin this? What if the thing inside of me ruins everything and I lose it all? So I didn’t say a word. It stayed a secret.
asked. “A museum is not going to take Mr. Avery’s stuff.
You hold on to something for twenty years, the expectations and possibilities bend and twist alongside your actual life.
Is that why we do anything in this life? To feel it vibrate along the line that starts at birth and ends way way way after we die?