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Maybe I was just one of those people who couldn't rest easy unless things went catastrophically wrong.

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
Things
Catastrophically
People
Couldn
Unless
Rest
Went
Maybe
Wrong
Easy

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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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Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.
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We find heroes, not on battlefields, but in hospitals that tend the injured. Sometimes I think it’s easier to fight than it is to heal.
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Sometimes broken things heal crooked. The pieces didn’t fit anymore.
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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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Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.
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I’m sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.
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I'll always want him. Until every sun goes dark in every sky, until I am nothing more than long-forgotten cosmic dust, I will want him. And even then I suspect my particles will long for his.
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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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Sometimes I miss the old me.
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People grew lazy. They knew too many blessings, and so lost the ability to appreciate what they had
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Life…never gave me a chance to be soft.
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He's earned a lifetime of peace and happiness, but some people never get what they deserve. That's why there are saints in gutters and sadists in palaces.
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I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.
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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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Through the damp fabric of my coverall, bundled in my blanket, I feel naked. Raw. He sees more than I want, more than I can bear. It’s like standing before him ... while he stares at my scars, pitiless and unmoved.
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With my partner beside me, I fear nothing, not even death.
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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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Brown bird welcomes white wave. Wander no more, dear traveler.
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If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.
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