The Lies About Truth

If nothing changes, nothing changes. If you keep doing what you're doing, you're going to keep getting what you're getting. You want change, make some.

I feel myself shutting down, closing off, like I should tell people, "No, we don't use this heart anymore. It's too fragile.

Imagination was a gift I kept in my front pocket.

Happiness was getting stuck with someone and never feeling stuck.

No one talked about the questions, because talking ruined plausible deniability. Talking burst the bubble of innocence. Talking ended the happily ever after. These were the truths they believed. And they were lies. They should have talked while there was still something to say.

Maybe forgiveness was giving the past less power to hurt me. Or even building new memories that were stronger than the painful ones.

Nature, at its strongest, shaved off mountaintops or threw houses into the air, but it couldn't was away pain. Everything had limitations.

Posse ad ease --from possibility to actuality

Sometimes a hand is an anchor. His held me to the world.

It's been a year. It's been a really hard year without you. Losing you felt like jumping off the bridge and forgetting which way was up. I don't think I'll ever be over it, but I'm starting to find my way through it. Mom said when a person dies, you don't get over it by forgetting; you get through it by remembering. I've been remembering everything lately.

Sometimes the journey to let someone love you is the journey to loving yourself.

We wrecked more than the car.

Forgiveness (n.) releasing the toxins of bitterness.

It started with the crash. I held on to all these emotions and truths that I should have expressed, but I didn't know how to say what I needed to say. I thought that would ruin us. Well, silence ruined us too.

If you weren't there, and I weren't here... If I weren't me... but you were still you, I would be interested in letting you like-like me.

He always had bread crumbs in his voice, and I followed them like a fairy tale.

Then, somehow, you have to accept that you're still here, and that maybe, just maybe, there's a reason. Find the reason.

The world hazed around me. I felt everything without feeling any thing.

Sharing a heart with someone isn’t a crowded thing when they understand you that well.

What are the stars telling you?" I asked. Max pushed up on his elbows and pretended to strain his ear toward the sky. "They say...They say...you're allowed to forgive yourself." I rolled sideways...and he did the same. "For what?" I asked. "Living." "I'm not very good at that," I admitted. "Well, you kissed someone without flinching. Maybe you're getting better." "Maybe it's just you." He didn't argue.

Night was like Christmas. There wasn't nearly enough of it to go around, especially in June.

She wore her heart in her eyes, and I liked her more than I know how to show.

Sometimes a small thing was bigger than a big thing.

I was different when I was attached to him. I was better.

If there was such a thing greater than happiness, I felt that, too. Peace, perhaps.

My dad's mom, Pazie, has this formal dining room, and it's so formal no one is allowed to use it. Some people have hearts like that, and I'm worried I'm becoming one of them. I feel myself shutting down, closing off, like I should tell people, "No, we don't use this heart anymore. It's too fragile.

I don't want this thing in my chest to beat me to death, but I also don't want to protect it so much that I never use it again.

With the way Max smiled, we wouldn't need the moon to light the way.

Nature, at its strongest, shaved off mountaintops or threw houses into the air, but it couldn't wash away pain. Everything had limitations.