Not dead-dying. Funny how two things could be so similar and yet so far apart
Not dead-dying. Funny how two things could be so similar and yet so far apart
Now I am the unknown, the unknowable.
Right now, it's hard to imagine that it is raining anywhere in the world.
Rilke says: Verweilung, auch am Verstrautesten nicht, ist uns gegeben - We are not allowed to linger, even with what is most intimate.
Sharing revelations is easier when it doesn't matter.
She leaned toward me, offering her neck, and I kissed her just behind her ear.
So here's my theory, and this is such crap science, I don't have to tell you. It's science without microscopes, blood tests, or reality.
Somewhere fate laughs in her far-off country, because now I am the human and it is Grace I will lose again and again, immer wieder, always the same, every winter, losing more of her each year, unless I find a cure.
There was nothing particularly special about her, except that she was good with numbers, and very good at lying, and she made her home in between the pages of books.
To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.
What do you mean? Grace Brisbane, you do not mean that you're not going back home again. Tell me that this was just because you were momentarily angry at them for grounding you. Or even tell me it's because you could not live without The Boy's stunning Boyfruits for another night. But don't tell me you think it's forever!
When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.
When I say panni here, everyone says Bless you.
You could write a book about things that you can't find online.
My parents had always been so careful with me, until the day they decided I needed to die.
No, you have to talk first. You wanted to talk. It means you say something and I respond and you talk back again. It's one of the human race's most shining achievements. It's called a conversation.
Everything was ruined, and everything was wrong, and not being able to shif shouldn've been the end of the world. But instead, for once, it was okay. --Cole's perspective
I'd always liked jogging because it was a place to think.
Get some money, buy a red coffeepot, move out. Find a new place to plug it in.
If the waitress comes, order me a coffee and something that involves bacon.
Grace, who haunted my thoughts when I couldn't dream
If you're reading this, I'm either a wolf for good, or you're Ulrik and you should get the hell out of my stuff.
His was the disease we couldn't cure. His was the good-bye that meant the most
I'll cook the water for the pasta
Humming and singing my new song, I led them up and down the stairs, pressing my fingers against the wall like I was about to push it over; down to the lobby, where I stood in a pot plant; and finally into the alley behind the studio, where I jumped on top of the car that had brought us from the hotel, leaving dents in the roof so the car would remember me.
I'm not done writing songs about you yet.
I am standing here in the shed, and I'm waiting to see if my seeds are going to poke out ofthe dirt. I don't know if it's too early to look for signs of life or if, this time, winter has claimed my family for good.
Isabel had gone silent in a way that shouted the silence to me.
I considered calling Grace to ask her what I should say to a reticent suicidal werewolf, but I'd left my phone somewhere. Car, maybe.
It felt wrong to be so proud of something that I had absolutely nothing to do with, but I couldn't help myself.
I couldn't imagine anyone ever reading a book enough to make it look like that. It looked like it had been driven over by a school bus after someone had taken a bath with it.
It occurred to me then that I was the opposite of my father. Because I was very, very good at destroying things.
I felt like I was watching the transfomation of two people: Victor to wolf, and Cole to someone else. I was the only one here, staying the same.
It was a life I didn't want to leave behind.It was a life I didn't want to forget.
As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.
I had a weird, empty feeling inside me. Not a bad sort of empty. It was a sort of lack of sensation, like being in pain for a long time and then suddenly realizing that you're not anymore. It was the feeling of having risked everything to be here with a boy and then realizing that he was exactly what I wanted. Being a picture and then finding I was really a puzzle piece, once I found the piece that was supposed to fit beside me.
It was about falling asleep with Sam's chest pressed against my back so I could feel his heart slow to match mine. It was about growing up and realizing that the feel of his arms around me, the smell of him when he was sleeping, the sound of his breathing -- that was home and everything I wanted at the end of the day. It wasn't the same as being with him and we were awake.
Avoidance is a wonderful therapy
I had risked everything, and I had nothing to show for it but my open hand, lying empty and palm up toward the ceiling.
It's like how on certain days some people wear sweaters when other people can wear t-shirts and still feel comfortable - different reactions to the same temperature.
Avoiding a bathtub because your parents tried to kill you in one isn't the same as avoiding your entire life by becoming a wolf.
I had this feeling that he and I , in this moment, were a car crash, and instead of putting on the brakes, I was hitting the accelerator.
Kiss¡ing in front of the love¡less is an act of cru¡el¡ty.
Because you know that's not how you want it to end. You know I'd love to have you with me, and it will be that way, one day. But this isn't the way it ought to happen.
I loved you so much right then Sam Roth.
Kissing in front of the loveless is an act of cruelty.
But love isn't quantifiable on paper.
I remembered standing in the middle of the street in front of The Crooked Bookshelf, filled with the certainty of a future. I had heard the wolves howling behind the house and remembered how glad I had been to be human.
Most people had an acquired kind of beauty, they became better looking the longer you knew them and the better you loved them, but Cole had unfairly skipped to the end of the game, all jaggedly handsome and Hollywood-looking. Not needing any love to get there.
Don't give me that look. I'm not trying to find out who you are. I don't care who you are. I just want to know why it is you are the way you are.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories