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Easy to forget stars are mortal; they’re born, and they die. They shine for legacy.
The thing about danger is, it always has a face. It chooses whether to show it to you or not. “Go on—come out,” I whispered. “Why delay the big reveal?” There’s something you should know about me, that I’ve come to learn, that I should probably tell you now, so the rest of this makes sense. Seems I’m the type to pick at a scab until it bleeds, then peel back the skin to see what’s underneath. The kind of curious that invites self-destruction.
There’s so little empathy and understanding when it comes to family, the cornerstone of society, the root of existence.
Some people need conspiracies, finding the simple horror of the truth too brutal.
Faith is so time-consuming. You sit there spewing nonsense for five minutes while your food gets cold.
Never thought I’d long for the birthday song.
Nothing terrified me more than this. The notion that without a choice we inherit parts of us that we cannot change. Cannot cut out.
It occurred to me then, mouth full of chocolate chip banana mush, that our past is not the truth. It’s warped by time and emotion, inevitably muddied by love and resentment, joy and shame, hope and regret. I couldn’t trust my own memories. Good or bad.
It’s a cruelty of life that we can never protect our own innocence. We can only watch ourselves lose it in retrospect. Scream at memories.
It was never a good sign when charismatic men started talking apocalypse.
“Missed you around here. You may be a bitch, but you get shit done.” “Put that on my tombstone.”
He leaned over and kissed me, and I tasted the sweetness of hope. For once, I allowed myself to savor it, without worrying about what it might do to my teeth.
Have to hand it to nature. For every beautiful thing it offers us, in the hand behind its back it holds something truly repulsive.
How could I have known then? How can anyone know when ruin wears the disguise of love?
