Your parents say everything is your fault, but they don’t know you like I know you, they don’t know you at all. I’m so sick of when they say, ‘It’s just a phase, you’ll be okay, you’re fine.’ But I know it’s a lie.
I don’t think of snow in June or other things that cannot be, yet somehow are.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
Sometimes it seems like everything I’ve done has been to help you be ready for someone else.
I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good. You may think the past has something to tell you. You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backward, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places. You may think there’s something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of.
But I know the truth: I know from the nights of Coldness. I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken. It’s hopeless. The past is nothing but a weight. It will build inside of you like a stone.
Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do - the only thing - is run.
He watches the sun out of the world and the stars into it and sometimes I wonder if he watches the sun come up again. Is it hard to sleep when you know you are almost at the end? Do you not want to miss a moment, even those that would otherwise seem dull and unremarkable?
Nothing I have written or done has made any difference in this world, and suddenly I know what it means to rage, and to crave.
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
Even if it hurts, I have to tell him. Because either way, whichever life I build, has to built on truth.
I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
