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I think my head's a minefield strewn with triggers, and maybe if I survive each explosion, what emerges from the wreckage will be me, really, truly me.

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
Maybe
Wreckage
Really
Emerges
Think
Explosion
Thinking
Triggers
Explosions
Survive
Minefield
Truly
Minefields
Head
Strewn

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No matter how interminable something feels, there is always, always an ending. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's bad sometimes it's a matter of indifference, and sometimes it's heartbreaking, and your life is never the same thereafter.
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Don't worry he tells me tenderly. It doesn't matter who you've been, who you are, or who you become. I'm with you every step of the way.
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With a polite smile, I decided she was insane.
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I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.
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Now I know there are ways to belong to someone that don’t take anything away. A relationship shouldn’t impose limits—and if it does, then it’s wrong. A lover should help you exceed your potential, not clip your wings.
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Brown bird welcomes white wave. Wander no more, dear traveler.
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Possessiveness isn’t love. I’m not even sure it qualifies as an emotion.
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There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.
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For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.
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I have had passionate kisses and fierce ones, kisses so sweet they tasted like pure honey and kisses that cut like knives, but until this moment, I’ve never had one that said both hello and good-bye.
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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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I know just how he feels that it’s come to this. Sometimes, love isn’t enough, even when it’s all you have.
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I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.
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People stay together and stay true only as long as they both want to. And all the promises in the world don’t change the length of time. Nothing comes with a guarantee.
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As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy’s thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can’t say I’ve heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.
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Caring too much could be dangerous I saw that now. But the alternative was no better.
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We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.
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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 felt like the blonde in every horror movie who hears a noise in the basement and goes to investigate alone. Sometimes you smell the stupid all around you, but you step in it anyway.
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He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.
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