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n the dark everyone felt the same: the edges blurred. When I think of myself then, what I was like two years ago, I feel like a wound in a bad place, prone to be bumped on corners or edges. Never able to heal.
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Like
Two
Wounds
Able
Corners
Feel
Edges
Feels
Heal
Years
Dark
Bumped
Never
Everyone
Blurred
Think
Felt
Prone
Thinking
Place
Wound
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Holding people away from you, and denying yourself love, that doesn't make you strong. if anything, it makes you weaker. Because you're doing it out of fear.
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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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The only trick was never giving more that you were willing to lose.
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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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But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over.
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I am not breaking my rules,' I snapped, hating that I'd ended up on the advice-recieving end of things, jumping from Dear Remy to Confused in Cincinnati all in one summer.
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I love YA, and it's been a really good fit for me. But at some point, I would like to try something else: a collection of short stories, or writing about something other than high school. A lot has happened to me since I was eighteen.
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My sister, who never understood most of the things I wanted her to, might have been able to understand what had happened to me in this summer of weddings and beginnings. And she was right. The first boy was always the hardest.
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He just stood there, looking at me, as if I had actually changed before his eyes. But this was the girl I'd been all along. I'd just hidden her well.
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closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than This Lullaby. All those keystrokes, all those letters, so many words. I brushed my fingers over the beads and watched as her image rippled, like it was on water, breaking apart gently and shimmering before becoming whole again.
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Editing is hard but nowhere NEAR as tough as facing that blank page and blinking cursor each day. You're all alone and no one else can do it. At least with editing you have someone in the trench with you.
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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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You're not the kind of person who smiles for nothing, Colie. I have to earn every one.
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There was nothing, nothing to depend on. And why was I surprised?
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That first love. And the first one who breaks your heart. For me, they just happen to be the same person.
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I've always known who I am. I might not work perfectly, or be like them, but that's okay. I know I work in my own way.
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After all with me & Marshall, it had never been about words or conversation, where there was too much to be risked or lost. Here, though, in the quiet pressed against each other, this felt familiar to me. And it was nice to let someone get close again, even if it was just for a little while.
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My point is you're different here. Hollis I've only been here for a month. A lot can happen in a month he replied. Shoot in two weeks I met my future wife changed my entire life's trajectory and bought my first tie. You bought a tie I asked. Because honestly this was the most shocking part.
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Looking at the pond, all I could think was that it is an incredivle thing, how a whole world can rise from what seems like nothing at all.
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I thought of all the times we'd been together, how I kept coming closer, then retreating, while he stayed right where he was. A constant in a world where few, if any, really existed.
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