Ever since the day I learned he died, I felt physically in pain. There was a constant sensation of heavy stones pressing down on my chest.
My mom doesn’t take any shit, so I was raised the same way.
I want us to recognize this darkness in one another, to love it and appreciate it.
You begin to prefer your own company rather than go out. Once you live by yourself, you become very comfortable being alone.
My sister and her boyfriend came to pick me up from college the day after my brother died. During the three hour car ride home, I was mostly in a state of catatonic shock.
Maybe it was nerves, but there’s something about a church that feels as uncomfortable and eerie as a cemetery. I’m sure it has the opposite effect on some people, but those people possess a quality that I don’t: faith.
I don’t have these ridiculously high expectations for marriage. I’ll never go into it thinking, “I’m NEVER getting divorced. That’s not an option!” I know it’s a reality, and that no matter how well it may begin, it could happen.
When you’re at the bottom, living in the darkness, there is no way it can get any worse.
You have no idea if they can see a future with you.
If a writer loves you, you can never die.