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I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Hours
Two
Kilometers
Forgiving
Hour
Hundred
Wall

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Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels perfect pass in a wink, and those where you're on your knees in despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.
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Sometimes I could almost hate you because you don't understand how much you mean to me, how dark and empty I was before. Solnyshko moyo.
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There’s a reason I hate jigsaw puzzles. I don’t have the patience to find all the border pieces, especially when they’re all the same shade of gray.
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What was the good of having such a fine home if you weren't willing to fight for it?
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You ever have that feeling? Like you’ve known someone your whole life but you don’t know them at all.
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After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.
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But courage wasn't an absence of fear it was fighting despite the knot in your stomach.
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It's only a sure defeat when you stop trying.
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But the world moves on, even when you don't want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops.
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Not just when its easy. All the time.
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But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.
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Each time Stalker called you 'dove', I wanted to hit him. Because you're not a little gray bird... you're all the light in the world.
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I always have someplace else I’d rather be, even if I don’t know where that is, yet.
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My body was a machine, plain and simple. I worked it to stay strong I fed it to keep it running.
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I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.
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Caring too much could be dangerous I saw that now. But the alternative was no better.
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But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
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Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don’t know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I’m afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces, and open flames.
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I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.
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She carries chaos like an overcoat.
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