Citater
He laughs. “I made you feel normal? You do realize I’m pretty far from normal, right?”
“I don’t care,” I say, brushing my lips against his. “I like you too much. Remember?”
I kiss his dimple first, and then I cover his mouth with mine, kissing him, thinking about how perfect he is, maybe not in every way, but in every way I need him to be. And I’m so relieved when he kisses me back. I feel the thoughts that have haunted me for the last four days pop like bubbles, disappearing into the air, one by one.
“I like you too much, too,” he says.
“Still?” I ask.
“Still,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “Way, way too much.”
“I don’t care,” I say, brushing my lips against his. “I like you too much. Remember?”
I kiss his dimple first, and then I cover his mouth with mine, kissing him, thinking about how perfect he is, maybe not in every way, but in every way I need him to be. And I’m so relieved when he kisses me back. I feel the thoughts that have haunted me for the last four days pop like bubbles, disappearing into the air, one by one.
“I like you too much, too,” he says.
“Still?” I ask.
“Still,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “Way, way too much.”
Breathe. Find a new thought.
If I cut it once, I’ll keep going. I know I will. I’ll move on to the next rose, and the next one, and I’ll keep cutting until there’s nothing left but a huge pile of stems, leaves, and petals.
After that, I’ll massacre those syrupy sweet, carefully written notes. Every single one of them.
God, that’s so twisted.
Then I’ll take the scissors to Olivia’s ponytail and cut right through that hair tie.
Shit. New thought. New thought.
If I cut it once, I’ll keep going. I know I will. I’ll move on to the next rose, and the next one, and I’ll keep cutting until there’s nothing left but a huge pile of stems, leaves, and petals.
After that, I’ll massacre those syrupy sweet, carefully written notes. Every single one of them.
God, that’s so twisted.
Then I’ll take the scissors to Olivia’s ponytail and cut right through that hair tie.
Shit. New thought. New thought.
“How many thoughts does the brain automatically deliver in a single day?” Mom moves on to facts to help me center myself.
“Seventy thousand,” I whisper as tears splash onto my jeans.
“That’s right. Do you act on seventy thousand thoughts a day?”
I shake my head.
“Of course you don’t. This thought was one in seventy thousand. It’s not special.”
“It’s not special.”
“Seventy thousand,” I whisper as tears splash onto my jeans.
“That’s right. Do you act on seventy thousand thoughts a day?”
I shake my head.
“Of course you don’t. This thought was one in seventy thousand. It’s not special.”
“It’s not special.”
Vurderinger
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