And the voice grows stronger and stronger, and it’s my voice this time and it’s asking a question: How does she know?

The line between true self and feigned self is blurred on all sides. Which I think is a rather handy metaphor for falling in love.

Even if you find him. Even if he didn’t leave you on purpose, he can’t possibly live up to the person you’ve built him into.

It feels like the city is telling secrets down here, privy only to those who think to listen.

Anything that kills hope is a sin

I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard.

Willem holds my wrist for a long moment, looking at that birthmark. Then he lifts it to his mouth. And though his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, it feels like a knife jamming into the electrical socket. It feels like the moment when I go live