Life's something we already understand. Death is a mystery.

But now, I am also learning this: we can be mended. We mend each other.

Sorry, am I being rude?" she asks. "I'm used to saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging

I started writing because I decided I was too old to play pretend in the backyard. Then I found that I could create those imaginary worlds on the page.

Peace is restrained; this is free.

He told me once to be brave, and though I have stood still while knives spun toward my face and jumped off a roof, I never thought I would need bravery in the small moments of my life. I do.

It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.