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But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Sweet
Things

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In the distance I see a lighthouse. The light washes over us and continues on its rotation. This time, I don't know where the light will guide us.
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Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.
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Words like 'unputdownable' and 'irresistible' are simply not enough for Cat Winters's In the Shadow of Blackbirds. Days after finishing this story, it remains the first thought I have in the morning, and the thing that haunts me until I sleep.
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Times like this, when she slips her hand into mine and holds on tight, and our husband becomes just a shadow in the doorway.
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You can't be afraid. You can be sad if you like. You can be angry. But it's the fear that'll freeze you in place.
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The seeds are tiny, unborn things, and I resent them. They'll be planted and they'll grow into exactly what they're meant to be.
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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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He sits next to me, careful to avoid my hair that's splayed out around my head like blood. A bullet to the forehead, boom, blond waves everywhere.
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My sisters were in that van.
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It is the face of a girl who has seen the world, who realizes that it hates her, and who hates it in return.
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None of the wives mention the security guards by the door, who will probably tackle us to the ground if we try to leave without our husbands.
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It was my fifth grade teacher who introduced the idea that writing could be more than a hobby for me.
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I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
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I never wanted to live forever, she says. I just wanted enough time.
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There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.
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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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You’re insane, you know that?” he says. “It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say.
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I can hear my brother's voice in my head. Your problem is that you're too emotional. But how can I not be emotional, Rowan? How can I not care?
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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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It's never right to give up on someone.
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