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In the middle of L.A.'s sunny non-winter, I need to sit in a dark closet to feel right.

Gayle Forman

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Gayle Forman
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 5
Writer
LA
California
Middle
Dark
Need
Right
Feel
Closet
Feels
Closets
Needs
Sunny
Winter

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Willem holds my wrist for a long moment, looking at that birthmark. Then he lifts it to his mouth. And though his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, it feels like a knife jamming into the electrical socket. It feels like the moment when I go live
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My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.
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And that's just it, isn't it? That's how we manage to survive the loss. Because love, it never dies, it never goes away, it never fades, so long as you hang on to it.
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Bribes are the glue that's kept teenagers and parents connected for generations
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I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.
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We were both music-obsessed, each in our own way. If we didn't entirely understand the other person's obsession, it didn't matter, because we understood our own.
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Forward momentum. That's my new motto. No regrets. And no going back.
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She's still beautiful. Not in an obvious Vanessa LeGrande or Byrn Shraeder kind of way. In a quiet way that's always been devastating to me.
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He gives me a little shrug, like, of course, why else? And at this point, I really have no right to be surprised by people's capacity for kindness and generosity, but still, I am. I'm floored every time.
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And something tells me if it matters, maybe it shouldn't be easy.
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Something given, something taken away. Does it always have to work like that?
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Suddenly, it's all too much. Bryn and the bump watch. Vanessa with my high school yearbook. The idea that nothing's sacred. Everything's fodder. That my life belongs to anyone but me.
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Willem, I suspect deep down you know exactly why you're here, exactly what you want, but you're unwilling to the wanting, let alone the having. Because both of those propositions are terrifying.
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Or maybe it's not a miracle. Maybe this is just life. When you open yourself up to it. When you put yourself in the path of it. When you say yes.
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Can you move on from something when you're not sure what it is you're moving on from?
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I want to undo this. To make it right. But I have no idea how. I don't seem to know how to open up to people without getting the door slammed in my face. So I do nothing.
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There were signs. Probably more of them than I ever caught, even after the fact. But I missed them all. Maybe because I wasn’t looking for them. I was too busy checking over my shoulder at the fire I’d just come through to pay much attention to the thousand-foot cliff looming in front of me.
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Sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love.
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I'm also starting to wonder something else. If maybe the point of this crazy quest I'm on wasn't to help me find Willem. Maybe it was to help me find someone else entirely.
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I realize then that it's not enough to know what someone is called. You have to know who they are.
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