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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The most important friendships in my life all came down to a decision made by strangers, chance.
My best friends taught me a new kind of quiet, the peaceful stillness of knowing one another so well you don’t need to fill the space. And a new kind of loud: noise as a celebration, as the overflow of joy at being alive, here, now.
It feels like the moment before a car accident, when the tires have started to hydroplane and you know something terrible is likely coming, but there’s still a chance the tread will find purchase and you’ll never know what agony you narrowly avoided.
I knew the only thing more painful than being without him would be being together knowing I no longer truly had him.
He’s become my best friend the way the others did: bit by bit, sand passing through an hourglass so slowly, it’s impossible to pin down the moment it happens. When suddenly more of my heart belongs to him than doesn’t, and I know I’ll never get a single grain back.
He’s a golden boy. I’m a girl whose life has been drawn in shades of gray.
Because feelings were changeable, and people were unpredictable. You couldn’t hold on to them through the force of will.
“No,” he says quietly. “In every universe, it’s you for me. Even if it’s not me for you.”
It feels like time has been canceled, thrown out, suspended indefinitely. As long as we stay out here on the water, salt spray flecking our skin, nothing else exists.
“Maybe I used to think there’d be a perfect time or place. But now I think, if you really want to be with someone, you don’t wait for things to be perfect.”
Everything is changing. It has to. You can’t stop time. All you can do is point yourself in a direction and hope the wind will let you get there.
Like even when something beautiful breaks, the making of it still matters.