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
"What did you do?" I scream. "You die, I die too."
Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide- open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.
Life damages us, every one. We can't escape that damage.
It is impossible to erase my choices.
The goal of my life isn't just... to be happy. 'Wouldn't it be easier if it was, though?