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.
Yes, it sucked getting dumped. But wasn't it better to just be brutally honest? To admit that your feeling for someone is never going to be powerful enough to justify taking up any more of their time? I was doing him a favor, really. Freeing him up for a better opportunity. In fact, I was a practically a saint, if you really thought about it. Exactly.
And 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.
It was a basic plot in any number of her books: girl strikes out, makes good, finds love, gets revenge. In that order. The making good and striking out part I liked. The rest would just be bonus.
Despite our differences, we did have a history. No one understood where I was coming from the way he did.
That was the nice thing about the Spot: you could hear everything, but no one could see you.
I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented
You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Beacause - you love me!
Are those the only options? Nothing or forever?
Just me and the future, finally together. Now there was a happy ending I could believe in.
He always did the leaving. But not this time. She kept walking, and did not look back.
The chances we take, knowing no better than to fall or to stand back and hold ourselves in... protecting our hearts with the tightest of grips.
I meant what I said to you. I wasn't playing some kind of summer game. Everything I said was true, from the first day. EVERY GODDAMN WORD
You know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. It's not overrated. There's a reason for all those songs.
As if he was beating me to the punch, his words living forever, while I was left speechless, no rebuttal, no words left to say.
Life isn't only about the big moments whether they be good or bad. Maybe itÆs about the small things that stretch out to strengthen the most tenuous bound.
He'd always had that fearless optimism that made cynics like me squirm. I wondered if it was enough for both of us. I would never know from here, though. And time was passing. Crucial minutes and seconds, each one capable of changing everything.
The fate of your heart is your choice and no one else gets a vote
More Sarah Dessen Quotations (Based on Topics)
Time - Life - World - People - Perfection - Love - Facts - Night - Relationship - Fate & Destiny - Emotions - Light - Future - Work & Career - Past - Sense & Perception - History - Chance - Thought & Thinking - 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
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