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

by Jennifer Hartmann

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.

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.”

“We’re all temporary. Every one of us. Jessica knew that, and I knew that. I knew she’d leave this world sooner than most, but I didn’t know when. Hell, I didn’t even know if it would be before me. Life is unexpected, fortuitus. All we can do is appreciate the moments we have while we have them.”

We store the past away, seal it up tight and carry it with us, but we don’t live in it anymore. We learn from it. That’s how we keep going,”

“They were everything to me. And when you lose your everything, you’ll look for anything to fill that gaping hole.”

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.

I squint at her. “Totally. I was just thinking that. The blowjobs are fantastic, and the love is an all-consuming fairytale, but the fact that we can never play a competitive game of H-O-R-S-E has me reconsidering everything.” “I get it,” she sighs.