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There was nothing, nothing to depend on. And why was I surprised?

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Depend
Surprised
Depends
Nothing

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Needing was so easy: it came naturally, like breathing. Being needed by someone else, though, that was the hard part. But as with giving help and accepting it, we had to do both to be made complete-like links overlapping to form a chain, or a lock finding the right key.
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Like it takes so little not only to change something, but to make you forget the way it once was, as well.
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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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You didn't fail. You just opted out. There's a difference.
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It was like reaching for someone's hand, then missing their fingers, or even their arm, and hitting their shoulder instead. But no matter. You hang on tight anyway.
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Who would have thought that grieving an old relationship and enjoying a new one could happen simultaneously, in parallel? Yet another thing you only find out once it's happening to you.
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But all I could think of was how when nothing made sense and hadn't for ages, you just have to grab onto anything you feel sure of.
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How fast were you? Wes asked me. I said, Not that fast. You mean you couldn't... fly? he said, smiling at me.
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You get what you give, but also what you're willing to take.
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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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