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I've done it all before, I tell myself, and I can do it again. Trust is the strongest weapon.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Trust
Tell
Done
Weapon
Strongest
Weapons

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Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.
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We writers are resilient souls.
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and I've always known it, the way I love a song I hear for the first time, even before I know all the words, the way I love my favorite color, and the way that the train would speed past my bedroom when it was very quiet and I'd feel it in my stomach rushing through me. I love you in a way that I've never felt needed to be said.
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It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls. There are always walls. I say.
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The thing about hope is that it doesn't go away even when it serves no purpose.
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Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.
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She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.
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I want to make the world into something better so that he can be okay.
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Maybe what frightens us about the edge isn't our fear of morality, but the thoughts it leads us to have.
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I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?
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I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die.
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Momentum,' She repeats. 'You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.
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Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.
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I never wanted to live forever, she says. I just wanted enough time.
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Good night, sweetheart, he says. Good bye, sweetheart, I say. And it's so casual, so innocent that he doesn't suspect a thing.
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There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.
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I figured it out eventually, she says. She's sitting on the edge of the gurney again her features slowly materialize as my vision clears. It's momentum. What? I whisper. The feeling returning to my lips, spreading out to my fingertips and toes. Momentum, she repeats. You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have
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Set fire to the broken pieces start anew.
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