Left Drowning

This book is for everyone who has survived. You are not broken. You can love and be loved, despite what may feel like the eternally brutal nature of the world. Even when you're drowning and so far under, there is always time to reach for someone who will teach you how to breathe again.

It’s smart to end relationships that are poisonous. It’s a good thing. Sometimes you have to cut people out of your life to make things better. So you can move forward.

We don't have to know everything. If you believe in fate and some kind of meaning and sense in this fucked-up world, then believe with abandon, love. Enjoy it.

You need songs that make you feel. Some make you string, some make you weak. Some build determination, some tear you apart. But you need all of those...Run through the pain.

Your parents died. Your world fell apart." I nod. He puts his hand on my cheek. "You were left drowning" I nod again. "And you're struggling to breathe" I am. It's a constant struggle to stay near the surface I have just enough air to stop me from going totally under, but not enough to thrive. "So do it. Breathe. Just Breathe." He turns up the volume and strokes my hair.

What are we doing? What are you doing?” “Loving you,” he says simply. “If you’ll let me.” “Always. God, always.

He leans into me and kisses me again. Harder this time. He tastes like eternity, and healing, and completion. No one else could ever kiss me like this, of that I am positive. I could breathe in him forever. I could fall in love forever.

You have the here and now. You have a future. Deal with the past so you can stop looking back. It's just the pain.

I see perfection in things that are likely considered imperfections by others.

Being with you let me feel, feel everything, and I needed that. I remembered better with you, I healed better with you, and you made … you made everything real.

At least one thing is certain: Chris and I are inextricably connected. Do I have factual reasons to know this? Proof? Assurances? No None. Some people believe in God; I believe in Chris.

Shut up" he says teasingly. "I know what you're thinking, and that's not why you're here with us" We walk for a minute. "Why am I?" Sabin shrugs. "Does there really have to be an answer to that? Sometimes it's just right. You fit. Jesus, kid, can't you feel it? Don't question everything." I smile. I do feel it. Belonging.

I want my mother right now. I want her so desperately that I physically ache to have her hold me, and it's absolutely bullshit that I have no one.

So I have spent four years without touch and affection and without wanting any. But now there is Christopher Shepherd, the boy who changed all the rules.

It wasn’t me?” I snap. “That’s got to be the goddamn dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re way too smart to say something like that. Don’t be such an asshole.” “Okay, yes. It was you.” “Awesome. That’s great to hear.

Reality is not necessarily my friend—then again, neither are dreams—but this moment, this reality, is beautiful.

Chris may be imperfect, and he makes mistakes, but I can feel his heart, and I know that he is mine.

Where in the goddamn hell are Blythe and Chris?” … “They’re fucking in the shower! Thank you, Lord!” Then her heels continue down the walkway while a collective round of applause echoes into the now-dark sky. “Congratulations! But hurry it up, kids! Dinner is almost ready.

We run through the remnants of our pain, and more importantly, we run for our present and for our future. Together we kick heartbreak's ass.

There is no time frame that dictates when and how you’ll feel what you feel. You just get to deal with hell however, and whenever, it hits you.

What’s happenin’, the cakest of all my baby cakes?

So I add frigid to the list. To that stupid mental inventory I try so hard not to keep. An increasingly large list of all my flaws. My inadequacies. My failures.

I am hit with the enormity of the impact that this family is having in my life. They, and mostly Chris, are saving me. Or teaching me to save myself.

I’ve read countless literary works that detail the longing and ache that characters have for someone they love, and over time, I have developed a strong belief that it’s just dramatic bullshit meant to entice readers.

you're just....You're everything" His words are perfect, but the tone in his voice is not right. Wistful. Apologetic.

So stay." It seems to take forever for him to answer, and his hands are still playing with my hair, his lips still darting against mine every few seconds. "I can't" He steps back and takes my hand to move me out of the way of the door. "I'd give anything to stay, but I can't. You're stunning, Blythe." He gives me an almost-sad smile. "But I just can't stay. It's too much.

Everything about her shredded my heart because she reminded me too much of my mother, and she reminded me too much of my mother's death. I couldn't handle it. And so I pushed her away.

I imagine that anyone who goes through trauma like I have wonders the same things I do: how God can exist and allow such awful things to happen. There are no reasons for my parents' death, and that's that.

One thing has become crystal clear to me overnight: I have never felt as close to anyone as I do to Chris. It is not from the amount of time we've spent together, but from the strength of the unquestionable bond we share.

Some people believe in God; I believe in Chris.