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No one could tell you: you just had to go through it on your own. If you were lucky, you came out on the other side and understood. If you didn't, you kept getting thrust back, retracing those steps, until you finally got it right.

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Tell
Finally
Didn
Understood
Back
Lucky
Right
Steps
Side
Sides
Came
Thrust
Getting
Kept

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The thing is, you can’t always have the best of everything. Because for a life to be real, you need it all: good and bad, beach and concrete, the familiar and the unknown, big talkers and small towns.
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When I was in high school, I was always really envious of those girls who seemed to have everything: the perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend, perfect life. It wasn't until I was older that I realized that nobody's life is perfect, and that those girls probably had a lot of the same problems I did.
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It's still a memory worth having, even if it's not exactly what you imagined.
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I always wrote about girls that went to the beach and had that summer that changed everything. So I was interested in what it would be like to live in a tourist town where everyone has these life changing experiences, but your whole life is there.
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Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.
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You should have seen your face, she said, her breath hot in my ear. Sa-woooon.
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She was just a shell of her former self, functioning and talking but hardly alive.
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That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.
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Once I turned eighteen, I could cut myself off from everyone and finally get what I wanted, which was to be on my own, once and for all. ~Ruby, pg 38
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Because it is so hard, in any life, to believe in what you can’t fully understand.
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If he'd been any other boy, and this was any other world, I would have kissed him. Nothing could have stopped me.
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In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.
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It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.
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It's never long distance between friends.
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I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone. As long as I didn't say it aloud, it wasn't real.
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It doesn't matter, anyway, why you like me. Just that you do.
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Why don't you ever wait a second and see what I'm planning, or thinking, before you burst in with your opinions and ideas? You never even give me a chance.
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Like a word on a page that you’ve printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign. And you feel scared for a second, like you’ve lost something, even if you’re not sure what it is.
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The truth was, I wasn't sure. But I wanted to keep believing people could change, and it was certainly easier to do so when you were in the midst of it.
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I didn't want to leave things the way we had, unresolved, ... and tried to tell myself he cared about me enough not to look elsewhere for what I wasn't giving him.
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