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Silence is so freaking loud

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Silence
Inspirational
Freaking
Loud

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That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about.
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No, no, no to Tallyho.
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I spent a lot of time looking at that picture. Wondering what I’d think of that girl, if I was someone else, seeing how easily she sits in her boyfriend’s lap, laughing, with his arms around her. I would have thought her life was perfect, the way I once thought Cass’s was. It was too easy, I was learning, to just assume things.
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Harder to get in than out, like so little else.
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Sometimes you dont even want to think aout what people are doing with their groceries.
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As if he was beating me to the punch, his words living forever, while I was left speechless, no rebuttal, no words left to say.
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Don't think or judge, just listen.
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You didn't fail. You just opted out. There's a difference.
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But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might no be forever?
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This Lullaby is only a few words, a simple run of chords, quiet here in this spare room, but you can hear it, hear it, wherever you may go, even if I let you down, this lullaby plays on.
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But you only get so many do-overs in this life, so many chances to, if not change your past, alter your future.
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But there was something I liked about the idea of those seeds buried so deep having at least a chance to emerge
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I told you, everyone understands a quest.
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But as was so often the case, it was the one person missing who you thought about more than the ones who were right in front of you.
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So what do you wear to dump somebody? she asked me, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. Black, for mourning? Or something cheerful and colorful, to distract them from their pain? Or maybe you wear some sort of camouflage, something that will help you disappear quickly in case they don't take it well.
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He'd always had that fearless optimism that made cynics like me squirm. I wondered if it was enough for both of us. I would never know from here, though. And time was passing. Crucial minutes and seconds, each one capable of changing everything.
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And trying to break it down this way, to minor and major offenses, maybes and what-ifs, was like arguing over the origin of cracks in a broken egg. It was done. How it happened didn't matter anymore.
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I am the middle sister. The one in between. Not oldest, not youngest, not boldest, not nicest. I am the shade of gray, the glass half empty or full, depending on your view. In my life, there has been little that I have done first or better than the one preceding or following me. Of all of us, though, I am the only one who has been broken.
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