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There is nothing else for people to do. They do not think. They feel no passion, no hatred, no sadness they feel nothing but fear, and a desire to control. So they watch, and poke, and pry.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 42
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Feels
Watch
Think
Control
Thinking
Passion
People
Desire
Fear
Poke
Else
Sadness
Nothing
Hatred
Feel
Watches

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I want to be healed and whole and perfect again, like a misshapen slab of iron that comes out of the fire glowing, glittering, razor-sharp.
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amazingly, i'd actually forgotten that i'm supposed to be plain. i'm so used to alex telling me i'm beautiful. i'm so used to feeling beautiful around him. a hollow opens up in my chest. this is what life will be like without him: everything will become ordinary again. i'll become ordinary again.
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i suppose that's the secret, if you're ever wishing for things to back the way they were. You just have to look up.
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The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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My parents were pretty liberal, but they were still parents. I definitely had my teenage rebellion.
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I just want to be normal, like everybody else. Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?
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I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
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Kent? I say, and my voice seems to have to rise from inside the fog, taking forever to get from my brain to my mouth. Yeah? Promise you'll stay here with me? I say. I promise, he whispers.
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I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.
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Funny how time heals. Like that bullet in my ribs. It's there, I know it's there, but I can barely feel it at all anymore.
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...and once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.
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The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other...they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are just pressing down.
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But the guilt goes even deeper than that. It, too, is dust: Layers and layers of it have accumulated. Because if it weren’t for me, Lena and Alex would never have been caught at all. I told on them. I was jealous. God forgive me, for I have sinned.
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Hope keeps you alive.
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I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.
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And for a moment―for a split second―everything else falls away, the whole pattern and order of my life, and a huge joy crests in my chest. I am no one, and I owe nothing to anybody, and my life is my own.
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I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.
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I have had to give up so much, so many selves and lives already. I have grown up and out of the rubble of my old lives, of things and people I have cared for.
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You see, we didn't know.
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I am now officially married to Fred Hargrove. Nothing will ever be the same.
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