I know it was more than that. But it was also less than that, too.

That's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through the silent parts.

This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it’s just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be.

We wish we could have been there for you. We didn't have many role models of our own--we latched on to the foolish love of Oscar Wilde and the well-versed longing of Walt Whitman because nobody else was there to show us an untortured path. We were going to be your role models. We were going to give you art and music and confidence and shelter and a much better world. Those who survived lived to do this. But we haven't been there for you. We've been here. Watching as you become the role models.

Dispel, v. It was the way you said, “I have something to tell you.” I could feel the magic drain from the room.

She stays in the same spot, anchored by the profound, desperate loneliness of a bad relationship.

anchor, v.: I drift, I drift, I drift, you stay.