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Every new party, every new bunch of people, and I start thinking that maybe this is my chance.That I'm going to be normal this time. A new leaf. A fresh start. But then I find myself at the party, thinking, Oh, yeah. This again.

Carol Rifka Brunt

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Carol Rifka Brunt
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Queens
New York
Going
Bunch
Every
Yeah
Time
Normal
Thinking
Maybe
People
Start
Party
Leafs
Chance
Leaf
Find
Fresh

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I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.
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You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.
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I knew the way lost hopes could be dangerous, how they could turn a person into someone they never thought they'd be.
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Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.
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Nothing had changed. I was the stupid one again. I was the girl who never understood who she was to people.
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I know all about love that's too big to stay in a tiny bucket. Splashing out all over the place in the most embarrassing way possible.
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You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.
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I stared out the window the whole way, because it was raining, which is how I like the city best. It looks like it's been polished up. All the streets shine and lights from everywhere reflect off the black. It's like the whole place has been dipped in sugar syrup. Like the city is some kind of big candy apple.
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Watching people is a good hobby, but you have to be careful about it. You can’t let people catch you staring at them. If people catch you, they treat you like a first-class criminal. And maybe they’re right to do that. Maybe it should be a crime to try to see things about people they don’t want you to see.
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If my life was a film, I’d have walked out by now.
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My mother gave me a disappointed look. Then I gave her one back. Mine was for everything, not just the sandwich.
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It's hard to do that, to decide to believe one thing over another.
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After a snowstorm is the best time to be in the woods, because all the empty beer and soda cans and candy wrappers disappear, and you don't have to try as hard to be in another time. Plus there's just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on.
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I only need one good friend to see me through. Most people aren't like that. Most people are always looking out for more people to know.
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I go to the movies whenever I get the chance, because the movie theater is like the woods. It's another place that's like a time machine.
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I thought of all the different kinds of love in the world. I could think of ten without even trying. The way parents love their kids, the way you love a puppy or chocolate ice cream or home or your favorite book or your sister. Or your uncle. There's those kinds of love and then there's the other kind. The falling kind.
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Going into the woods alone is the best way to pretend you're in another time. It's a thing you can only do alone. If there's somebody else with you, it's too easy to remember where you really are.
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Sometimes it feels good to take the long way home.
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Maybe you had to be dying to finally get to do what you wanted.I fidgeted around with the puzzle pieces for a while longer, but I wasn't lucky. Nothing seemed to fit without a whole lot of work.Then I had this thought: What if it was enough to realize that you would die someday, that none of this would go on forever? Would that be enough?
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You think I don't know about wrong love, June? You think I don't understand embarrassing love?
Carol Rifka Brunt