It’s clear scary movies have a way of messing with our heads, especially if we aren’t in the best frame of mind. But no one expects to watch one and have their life completely changed.
I sometimes think it’s the end of the world. Not in an “I’m-anxious-and-I-am-overblowing-this-situation” kind of way—no, when I say “end of the world,” I mean it very literally.
Does the fact that I don’t feel the need to probe every unexplored corner of the universe mean I lack curiosity? Or can it simply mean that I enjoy the mystery of not knowing everything this life contains?
I always feel like I’m saying goodbye too soon, walking out the door before I’m ready, starting anew before I’ve ever had the time to process the last ending. I try so hard to make the most of every moment, but then it’s gone and I’m not sure what to do but hold on to the next one and hope it’ll last for just a little longer this time.
In real life, working in the FBI is hardly like a movie.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that these days are important, but they aren’t everything. You’ll fall down, you’ll get your heart broken, you’ll break down, but you’ll always get back up.
My best friend didn’t tell me her house was haunted, but somehow I knew.
If I have to suffer from the knowledge of every batshit thing Edward said and did in this novel, then so do you.
In some ways, we are still just a generation of emo kids.
The truth is, deep down, I know that I am a lot. But what it took me so long to realize was that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.