As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

The light filtered throught the leaves and pine needles above as if through lace, the ground spotted in shadow.

And then something invisible snapped insider her, and that which had come together commenced to fall apart.

You matter as much as the things that matter to you. And I got so backwards trying to matter to him. All this time, there were real things to care about: real, good people who care about me, and this place. It's so easy to get stuck. You just get caught in being something, being special or cool or whatever, to the point where you don't even know why you need it; you just think you do.

The past feels distant, even when it's near. The future feels assured, even when it isn't.

You say you're not special because the world doesn't know about you, but that's an insult to me. I know about you.

Isaac out of surgery. It went well. He's officially NEC. NEC meant "no evidence of cancer." A second text came a few seconds later. I mean, he's blind. So that's unfortunate.