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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
Every
Yeah
Time
Normal
Thinking
Maybe
People
Start
Party
Leafs
Chance
Leaf
Find
Fresh
Going
Bunch

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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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You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.
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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 need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.
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It's hard to do that, to decide to believe one thing over another.
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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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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 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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I had no idea how greedy my heart really was.
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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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If my life was a film, I’d have walked out by now.
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Sometimes it feels good to take the long way home.
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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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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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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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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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