But I always worked harder when I was up against something, or when someone assumed I couldn't succeed. That's what drove me, all those nights studying. The fact that so many figured I couldn't do it.
Maybe marriage, like life, is'nt only about the big moments, whether they be good or bad. Maybe it's all the small things - like being guided slowly forward, surely, day after day - that stretches out to strengthen even the most tenuous bond.
I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.
This is what daughters did. They left, and came home later with lives of their own.
If what you're asking is how I debated whether or not to love her the answer is I didn't. Not at all. It just happened. I didn't ever question it; by the time I realized what was happening, it was already done.
But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might no be forever?
No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater...The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.
I can say I made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret things. Because at least I didn't spend a life standing outside, wondering what living would be like.
Times like this it did seem real I was leaving, and even more that my family, and this life, would go on without me. And again I felt that emptiness rise up, but pushed it away. Still, I lingered there, in the doorway, memorizing the noise. The moment. Tucking it away out of sight, to be remembered when I needed it most.
In a way, I was almost happy to see her. The worst part of me, out in the flesh. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call her a name other than my own.
But it was even worse when you knew at that very moment that there was still time to save yourself, and yet you couldnÆt even budge.
Once, I was easy. Now, I was choosy. See? Big difference.
I didn't trot my pain out to show around. I kept it better hidden than anyone. I did.
What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn't even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you and throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both.
In those first few hours officially single again the world seems like it expands, suddenly bigger and more vast now that you have to get through it alone.
But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over
She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.
I drove off, with my friends watching me go, all of them grouped on Lissa's hood. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced into the rearview and saw them: they were waving, hands moving through the air, their voices loud, calling out after me. The square of that mirror was like a frame, holding this picture of them saying good-bye, pushing me forward, before shifting gently out of sight, inch by fluid inch, as I turned away.
Whenever you made a choice, especially one you'd been resisting, it always affected everything else, some in big ways, like a tremor beneath your feet, others in so tiny a shift you hardly noticed a change at all. But it was happening.
And for one second, it was like I could feel the timing clicking together, finally pieces falling into place.
It passed, though. That was the bad thing. It always passed.
But something, somehow, had made all these paths converge. You couldn't find it on a checklist, or work it into the equation. It just happened.
So many times it seemed like there were chances to stop things before they started. Or even stop them in midstream. But it was even worse when you knew in that very moment that there was still time to save yourself, and yet you couldn't even budge.
I eased back on my elbows, tilting my head back to look up at the sky, which was pinkish, streaked with red. This was the time we knew best, that stretch of day going from dusk to dark. It seemed like we were always waiting for nighttime here. I could feel the trampoline easing up and down, moved by our own breathing, bringing us in small increments up and back from the sky as the colors faded, slowly, and the stars began to show themselves.
Writing a novel is like childbirth: once you realize how awful it really is, you never want to do it again.
And I felt a sudden whirl in my head, knowing this leap was inevitable, that I wasn't just standing on the cliff, toes poking over, but already in mid-air.
It seemed like this day could go in so many directions, like a spiderweb shooting out toward endless possibilities.
D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, Austin . . . and you. I'll be there soon.
So much hanging on just these things, tiny increments that together build a life. Like words build a story, and what had Ted said? One word can change the entire world
I just thought to my self, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.
More Sarah Dessen Quotations (Based on Topics)
Time - Life - World - People - Perfection - Love - Facts - Light - Night - Relationship - Fate & Destiny - Emotions - Sense & Perception - Future - Work & Career - Past - Mind - History - Chance - View All Sarah Dessen Quotations
More Sarah Dessen Quotations (By Book Titles)
- Along for the Ride
- Just Listen
- Lock and Key
- The Truth About Forever
- This Lullaby
- - - - - - - - - - -