The Girl In Between

People don’t exist in just the light or the dark. They exist in the contrast. In the shadows where the two overlap.

Because the truth was I was tired. I was tired of fighting but more importantly I was tired of losing, of being disappointed.

That was one of the worst things about being sick. Someone was always waiting on you, which meant disappointing people was inevitable.

Because for every girl in the history of girls there is always that one guy she can’t seem to shake. Even though she knows he’s not just bad for her but probably the worst thing.

But maybe I could give myself something too—permission to keep trying. Even when it felt like it was all for nothing. Even if trying was all I ever did, I shouldn’t stop.

Money isn’t everything and happiness is relative.

dream with your heart and the universe will bend at your will.

It’s comfortable and not because he makes you happy—the guy’s a total asshole—but because you already know what to expect. You already know how he’ll hurt you.

You know I’ll be right there with you if you want to go to Germany. Or if you don’t, I’ll be right there too.” “I know,” I said. “You always are.” “And I always will be.” Hot tears pricked at my lashes. I blinked. Because she was wrong. Because she would get older and so would I. She wouldn’t always be there. Whether I still needed her or not, she wouldn’t always be there.

You’re still just waiting,” she said. “And so is my mom. Who’d want a lifetime of waiting?” I stared at the soft lines of her lips. “Someone who knows what it is they’re waiting for.

He was the color of a hydrangea before it blooms, wilting like one too, every inch of him sunken and bruised.

If I had to pull an all-nighter studying for a test or too many looming deadlines had me pulling out my hair, I wouldn’t end up with just some trendy coffee addiction. I’d end up in a mini-coma, face down in the middle of the studio or on the floor of the community showers.

My lip trembled, my throat raw, and I started to cry. But not because I didn’t look perfect. But because I looked healthy and because I wasn’t sure how long I’d stay that way.

I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of losing you.” Well,

The Kite Runner and were building kites out of construction paper, marking the four corners with examples of symbolism and archetypes and foreshadowing and all of the other things most writers probably do completely by accident. “I

Who’d want a lifetime of waiting?” I stared at the soft lines of her lips. “Someone who knows what it is they’re waiting for.” I

He looked like he’d been carved from himself by jagged tools, an unsteady hand giving him angles where there should have been curves; the silhouette of bone where there should have been flesh.

Because for every girl in the history of girls there is always that one guy she can’t seem to shake. Even though she knows he’s not just bad for her but probably the worst thing. The

The tide surged, carving a crescent in the sand. Water collapsed

What if I had made him up?

shower?” “Are you going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me help our sick friend who has a guy in her head who may or may not be the link to some parallel universe where you are not a bitch?” She froze, glaring at him. Then she lifted the last chip out of Felix’s grasp and shoved it in her mouth. “Now who’s the bitch?” He cracked a smile, pinched the tip of her nose. “Still you. That’s the one that fell on my crotch.” She gagged and took a long gulp of her drink. He looked at me. “It’s an acquired taste. Anyway, Dani said he’s dead.

Don’t get me started on corporate conspiracies and the communist mind fuck that is public radio.” “Okay.

Who’d want a lifetime of waiting?” I stared at the soft lines of her lips. “Someone who knows what it is they’re waiting for.

Drew’s dating someone.” “Someone…” “Else.” “Yeah. Got that. Who?” “I don’t know. She doesn’t go to Imperial.