A Pessimist's Guide to Love (Heartsong, #2)

by Jennifer Hartmann

His body heat is the sun on my skin. His breath is new life, filling me from the inside out. And his words, his words— They are everything.

“You feel like my one and only anchor, Lucy, and I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to sink you down with me.” “I won’t let you sink. We’ll rise above.”

What I’m starting to realize is that things meant to happen are just going to happen. There’s no preparing, no preventing. They just happen. And the risks we take, the memories we make, are the only things that count. That’s all that matters. Everything else is going to happen anyway.

“Deceptive Cadence” You think you know what’s coming, but you never really do. And sometimes, when you think something is coming to an end, it’s actually the beginning of something beautiful. The words were tattooed along his lower back in jet black ink. A tribute. A homage. They were etched onto his skin, right beneath a pair of angel wings. And between the wings…was the outline of a glowing sun. Sunshine.

Songs are funny like that—you might not hear them play for years, but you still remember every word. And I think it’s because songs are more than words, more than notes, more than verses and choruses. Words fade and scatter over time, but songs tied to life’s most precious memories live inside of us forever.

Everyone has demons. Monsters lurking around every corner, whispering in your ear, hiding under your bed, living just beneath your skin. The key is turning your demons into friends. Companions. Don’t let them scare you. Don’t let them chase you. Let them run with you. Only then, you will win.

There’s no reason for suffering, but there’s always a reason to keep going.

“Home is something I buried a long time ago,” he tells me, voice cracking with sentiment. A breath passes between us, a drumbeat. And then he whispers, “But I buried it inside you. Just in case I ever wanted to go back.”

“Even a tragedy can have a happy ending. Sometimes we just need to write it in ourselves.”

Within the tangled roots of grief, we stand to lose so much. But no one ever acknowledges what we stand to gain. Strength. Perspective. Appreciation. Resilience. Those things are often buried, overpowered by grief’s mighty right hand—suffering. They exist, though. There’s beauty in the breakdown, a glimmer of light hidden in the smoke. And sometimes, every once in a while, if you’re truly lucky… There is love.