The Love of My Afterlife

Because life is too short to wait around on a good idea.

Sometimes when people want to go, it’s easier to just let them.

The problem with so many people you encounter in life is that they're being the version of themselves they think they should be rather than the person they actually are.

I might not have much choice in how long I stay alive. But I do have some say in how much life I can pack into the days I have left. How much happiness I can experience.

Crying means you're feeling," Jan muses. That you're living. That you're loving". That you're laughing.

Were you aware that emotional tears have a higher protein concentration than tears that comes from irritation? I read online that the higher protein content makes them fall down your cheeks more slowly -- increasing the chance they'll be seen by people and attract help. Your body is literally built for community. Tears attract people. So cry away!

The thing about people is you have to let hem drag you to places you don't want to go. Let them tell you things you don't want to hear. Let them break you and put you back together.

trying to do the scary thing is almost as good as actually doing the scary thing.

What I'm saying is that tonight I saw those people singing "Happy Birthday" and I got it. Those guests, friends, family, whatever. They were witnesses to that guy's life. The fact that they were there to see him change age - some arbitrary occasion - it marked it. It means that it will be remembered. That he will be remembered. Even when he's gone. Because, he had, you know, witnesses,

being alive is about experiencing the full gamut of emotions. If you’re not feeling pushed and pulled and scared and delighted instead of just safe—then you’re not doing it right.

Fate has a way of giving you exactly what you need, when you need it.

I don't just hang around with people. Especially strangers. The woman pulls another face. "Then they will always be strangers if you never hang out with them. Never friends.

What you do is you focus on getting better. You get back to life as best you can. And you keep hoping. You keep hoping that life will turn out the way it’s supposed to.

You make me laugh and you infuriate me. You make me want to be completely myself and to learn how to do that from you. You make it fun to be me. I love you, Delphie.

A library card is a portal, if you will, into any universe you can imagine. Oh, the adventures you will have, eh?

The thing about people is you have to let them drag you to places you don’t want to go. Let them tell you things you don’t want to hear. Let them break you and put you back together. Like my beloved Stephen Sondheim wrote—Somebody hold me too close, somebody hurt me too deep. That’s what being alive is.

Why the rush?” I take a deep breath. “Because life is too short to wait around on a good idea.

Nothing strips away the carefully curated cool demeanour of a person faster than being around those who raised them.

wouldn’t it be a dull old life if you never had anything to cry about?

Usually when people touch me I get sweaty and anxious, the urge to either run away or kick them in the shin intensifying with each second of contact. But this? It feels…pleasing. Steady and soft and sensual all at the same time. Like a warm bubble bath on a brittle February day.

And you, my dude?” she asks Cooper, who I don’t believe has ever been referred to as “my dude” in his life.

He’ll write down answers to your questions if you need him to,” I tell her. “Took me three years to figure that one out.

I might actually have been a latent slut, just waiting for the opportunity to bloom. Because once Cooper’s friend has dropped off his keys and we’re driving back to London, I can think of nothing else except for having sex again. Specifically with Cooper.

I hold up the earrings. “Got to do some ear strength training if I’m gonna handle these bad boys. Wonder if they make miniature kettlebells for earlobes? Haha.

The headphones would crush their flower crowns,” Frida returns, as if this is obvious and I am thick.

Crying means you’re feeling,” Jan muses. “That you’re living. That you’re loving.” “That you’re laughing?” She ignores me. “It means that you care.

If people want to go, sometimes it’s easier to just let them.