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This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 41
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Lost
Place
Become
Carved
Persons
Hollow
Person
Permanent
Wanted
Easily
Things
Hatred
Inside

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The second time my world exploded, it was also because of a word. A word that worked its way out of my throat and danced onto and out of my lips before I could think about it, or stop it. The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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i feel like a curtain has dropped away and i'm seeing people for who they really are, different, and sharp, and unknowable.
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This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.
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It's funny how you can know your friends so well, but you still end up playing the same games with them.
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My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.
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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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And you can't love, not fully, unless you are loved in return.
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Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.
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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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It occurs to me that for a long time she has been doing her own version of resisting.
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Snapshots, moments, mere seconds: as fragile and beautiful and hopeless as a single butterfly, flapping on against a gathering wind.
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That's my favorite thing about him. I like to lie next to him when it's late, dark, and so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat. It's times like that when I'm sure that I'm in love.
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I want to know. His words are a whisper, barely audible. I want to know with you.
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Alex is dead, do you hear me? All of that-what we felt, what it meant- that's done now, okay? Buried. Blown away.
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