It's just accidental, just temporary. Until the next accident sends me somewhere new. That's how life works.

I recognized that the kiss was a door I had walked through.

As the lightness buoys me, I wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe it's not about looking hot for guys, but about feeling like a place acknowledged you, winked at you, accepted you. It's strange because, of all the people in all the cities, I'd have thought that to Parisians I'd be invisible, but apparently I'm not. Apparently in Paris, not only can I skate, but I practically qualify for the Olympics!

I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.

What is the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?

It's like the piano and the cello are being poured into my body, the same way the IV and blood transfusions are. And the memories of my life as it was, and the flashes of it as it might be, are coming so fast and furious. I feel like I can no longer keep up with them but they keep coming and everything is colliding, until I cannot take anymore. Until I cannot be like this a second longer.

Bribes are the glue that's kept teenagers and parents connected for generations