a world alone;

We are liars. We are beautiful and privileged. We are cracked and  b r o k e n.

We may not get to choose how we die, but we can chose how we live. The universe may forget us, but it doesn’t matter. Because we are the ants, and we’ll keep marching on.

“I want to get my invisibility sweatshirt and skullcap out of my bag and put it on. But I don’t. I want to believe the red ribbon around my wrist will keep me safe always. But it won’t. I want to play How Would You Rather Die? instead of figuring out how to live. But I can’t. I’m over being a coward. I’m sick of being on pause, of being buried and hidden, of being petrified, in both senses of the word. I don’t want to imagine meadows, I want to run through them.”

“‘or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of people,’ i say. “maybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time.” hauling them in as we make choices, good and bad, as we screw up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.” 

kaz wouldn’t have an instagram and y’all know it

I’m so tired. I don’t know if I can ever outrun how I used to be.

“In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He’d have loved it all right.”

i guess that’s part of growing up, too–saying goodbye to the things you used to love.