Beautiful Graves

by L.J. Shen

The thing about tragedies is, you can never outrun the Big Alone. At some point, it catches up with you. In the middle of the night. When you’re taking a hasty shower. When you roll in bed and the linen is pressed and smooth where your lover should be. The big moments in your life are always experienced in solitude.

They’re not wrong. I have no idea what I’ll do. Because even in the best of times, I’ve always been torn. Between the man I am about to bury. And the man standing behind my back.

“Mainstream people aren’t revolutionary. Nothing good ever comes out of them. Average equals comfort.”

“What if I’m not fucking awesome?” “You are,” he says, sure as the morning sun. “If you were mediocre, you wouldn’t be running circles in my head.”

“Is it always like that?” I whisper. He knows exactly what I’m asking, because he shakes his head and says, “No, Ever. It’s never like that. This . . .” He dips his head, kissing the shell of my ear. “This is heaven. This is worthy of death.”

It’s a terrible existence. To feel like you’re not worthy of good things happening in your life.”

“I loved you, Ever Lawson. But I want you to know, you’re the worst thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.”

“You goddamn know Presley was never in the race.” Joe shuts me up with a dirty, violent kiss. “As long as you have breath in you, no one else stands a chance.”

‘Be thankful to those who helped you when you were down, and be thankful to those who didn’t. The former are worth keeping, and the latter helped you realize it.’”

thank you. For loving both my sons . . . and, although during different periods of time, making both of them happy.”

But see, forgiving people who hurt us is not about those people at all. It is about choosing to move on with our lives. Letting go of the grudges. Healing without depending on someone else’s journey.