Reminders of Him

by Colleen Hoover

I want to learn how to talk to people without wishing I could retract every word I said. I want to be good at feeling things when a guy touches my waist. I want to be good at life. I want to make it look effortless, but up until this point, I’ve made every aspect of life appear entirely too difficult to navigate.

As soon as he gives his attention to someone at the other end of the bar, I take a drink of my coffee and close my eyes and cry because life can be so fucking cruel and hard, and I’ve wanted to quit living it so many times, but then moments like these remind me that happiness isn’t some permanent thing we’re all trying to achieve in life, it’s merely a thing that shows up every now and then, sometimes in tiny doses that are just substantial enough to keep us going.

Her face is a work of art. I wish there was a picture of it hanging on a wall in a museum somewhere so I could stand in front of it and stare at it for as long as I wanted.

I want good things for her because it seems like she hasn’t had a good thing in a long, long time.

People say you fall in love, but fall is such a sad word when you think about it. Falls are never good. You fall on the ground, you fall behind, you fall to your death. Whoever was the first person to say they fell in love must have already fallen out of it. Otherwise, they’d have called it something much better.

She’s quiet in a fierce way—a storm that sneaks up on you, and you don’t know it’s there until you feel the thunder rattle your bones.

People think women who go to prison have a certain look. That we’re a certain way. But we’re mothers, wives, daughters, humans. And all we want is to just catch one fucking break.

So, you decide right now, right here. Are you gonna live in your sadness or are you gonna die in it?”

Some things can be forgiven, but sometimes an action is so painful the memory of it can still crush a person ten years down the road.

I know from experience that if you’re going to grow up with an imperfect mother, it’s better to grow up knowing your imperfect mother is fighting for you than to grow up knowing she doesn’t give a shit about you.

“Regret keeps you stuck on pause. So does prison. When you get out of here, make sure you hit play so you don’t forget to move forward.”

“Dear Scotty, I had sex with your best friend tonight. I’m not sure that’s something you want to hear. Or maybe it is. I get the feeling if you can hear these letters from wherever you are, you would want me to be happy. And right now, Ledger is the one thing in my life that makes me happy. If it’s any consolation, the sex with him was great, but no one can hold a candle to you. Love, Kenna.” I close the notebook and rest it on my lap. Ledger is quiet for a moment as he stares stoically at the ceiling. “You’re just saying that so you don’t hurt his feelings, right?” I laugh. “Sure. If that’s what you need to hear.”

Grudges are heavy, but for the people hurting the most, I suppose forgiveness is even heavier.

There was before you and there was during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and I was in it. I’ll be in it forever.

arduous,

I turn around and face him; then I lift my hand and touch his cheek. “I would have fallen for you even if you didn’t love Diem.” His expression shifts, and then he kisses the inside of my palm. “I fell for you because of how much you do.” Dammit, Ledger. I kiss him for that.

There are people who find peace in forgiveness, and then there are others who look at forgiveness as a betrayal.

Sometimes I wonder if we’re all born with equal amounts of good and evil. What if no one person is more or less malevolent than another, and that we all just release our bad at different times, in different ways?

This might be the exact moment I fall in love with Ledger Ward.

It proves that time, distance, and devastation allow people enough opportunity to craft villains out of people they don’t even know.

But he laughs, and that’s all he does, and for the first time since Scotty died I feel a sense of hope for him. For all of us.

Maybe it doesn’t matter whether something is a coincidence or a sign. Maybe the best way to cope with the loss of the people we love is to find them in as many places and things as we possibly can. And in the off chance that the people we lose are still somehow able to hear us, maybe we should never stop talking to them.

sometimes we do things for people we love, even though we wouldn’t choose to do those things for ourselves.”

Now that I’ve forgiven myself, the reminders of him only make me smile.