I'd chosen instead to just change my route, go miles out of the way, as if avoiding it would make it go away once and for all.

And that was it. All this buildup to a great leap, and I didn't fall or fly. Instead I found myself back on the edge of the cliff, blinking, wondering if I'd ever jumped at all. It's not supposed to be like this.

Just me and the future, finally together. Now there was a happy ending I could believe in.

I don't lie." "You don't lie," I repeated. "That's what I said." "Ever." "Nope." Sure you don't, I thought.

But what he didn't understand was that this dreamland was preferable, walking through this life half-sleeping, everything at arm's length or farther away. I understood those mermaids. I didn't care if they sang to me. All I wanted was to block out all the human voices as they called me name again and again, pulling me upward into light, to drown.

I've found in my own life that if my writing isn't going well, not much else will. It is the one constant, the key to everything else.

Sometimes really, really bad things happen to people, and there is no explanation and no reason whatsoever.