Oh, this here and now, this particular snapshot fragment of forever.

Clare wasn’t worried anymore about their being mean to each other. She imagined that someday she’s be part of a friendship in which she and the friend thought so highly of each other and were so sure or this that they could say anything.

That was how her mother was, catching all the available light in any room and making it part of her.

It’s ok to feel happy, right? She hoped he’d know what she meant.

Her head had been hurting for days, but under the falling water, the headache opened like a rose- bright red, layered, and complicated.

If I were to ever have a full-fledged vocation, as opposed to a half-assed avocation, I needed to love it and, in my experience, it isn’t always easy to figure out what you love.

But I didn’t cry. I sat stiller than I’d ever sat, just kind of falling in on myself, getting denser and smaller, and all the while I screamed. Not with my vocal chords, nothing so pure and ordinary as that. My mouth didn’t move, but I screamed with my whole body, my hair, my fingers, the back of my neck, the pit of my stomach, the pores of my skin. I screamed until I didn’t have any voice left, until I was empty, and then I floated, shivering, in an ice-cold ocean of silence.

I’ve always found allegories kind of comforting. When you encounter people named Liar and Abstinence, you might not be crazy about them, but you know exactly what you’re getting into.

But you’re wrong. Happiness is EARNED, like everything else. It’s achieved.

If you never share the worst thing you’ve ever done with a single person, if you just carry it all by yourself, maybe it comes between you and everyone you meet, even if it’s years later.