“i don’t have the tears to cry anymore. but…i at least have to keep yu safe” // “i promise you, mika. even if i have to sell out the whole world to do it, i’ll make sure you’re turned back into a human.”
“I have seen her. Walking across the courtyard from her first class this morning, her expression thoughtful, her book bag casually thrown over her shoulder. I had seen photographs, of course; I knew she wore clunky glasses and her hair in a youthful dreadlock style, that her clothes would be dynamic and colorful. I knew she would be 1.63 meters tall, that she would weigh 50kg, that she was coming away from a neurobiology class; I knew what to expect…But I was not prepared for her insouciant manner, the way she squinted and smiled up at the gathering rainclouds, aware of the gray weather in a way that the other students missed, immersed in their phones or conversations. I did not think she would kick at a pile of leaves. She walks loosely, comfortable in her skin, her face as open and expressive as Ms Hendrix’s is closed.” - from the diary of Dr. Delphine Cormier.
I’m sorry because I gave you everything that I have. I’m sorry because I cared about you. I’m sorry because I was always there for you. I’m sorry because you were always my first priority. I’m sorry because I cry over you. I’m sorry because I loved the way you smile. I’m sorry because I fell in love with your eyes. I’m sorry because I made you my everything.
“You know after I sent that kid to the hospital years ago they said I had an anger problem, but that’s not true. I was angry because of something else. Something I’d lost. Trying so hard since not to be angry got me all defenseless and I lost more, and more, and more… that’s not getting better. I want to be angry. When I ran home from college, on the bus I had this dream… or maybe I saw it out the window, last leaf on the tree finally blown off. I’m so scared all the time, and the fear hurts, feeling like everything is over… was over long before I got here, so long, hiding or trying to outrun this. I get it. This won’t stop until I die. But when I die I want it to hurt. When my friends leave, when I have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I’m thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens I want to hope again and I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something. It means I am… something, at least. Pretty amazing to be something at least.”
God, I fucking miss you so much. It hits me randomly during the day. I’m with people who actually care about me, laughing, smiling, being happy and then out of nowhere it hits me that you left. You left and it didn’t even hurt you. Not talking to me isn’t even fucking hurting you, because I was just another girl to you. I was just another one of your fucking toys.
We try so hard to hide everything we’re really feeling from those who probably need to know our true feelings the most. People try to bottle up their emotions, as if it’s somehow wrong to have natural reactions to life.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. The way we used to laugh together and the great times we had. Not everyone is meant to stay in your life, but I always thought you were one of the few who would. But now I see why you had to leave. The universe had it planned out. After one great thing left, which was you. A billion new amazing things came into my life. I’ll admit it, when I hear your name or see you in the hallway I get a little bit sad. But I’m actually happy without you, I never thought I would be able to say it.