Chelsie

“I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.”
― Sarah Dessen, Dreamland

“Can she be divorced?" I asked. "And famous for her commercials
and ideas?"
She can be anything," Boo told me, and this is what I remember most, her freckled
face so solemn, as if
she knew she was the first to tell me. "And so can you.”
― Sarah Dessen, Wir sehen uns im Traumland

“Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you."
You said the other day life was long," I shot back. "Which is it?"
It's both," she said, shrugging. "It all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing."
Nothing can be two opposite things at once," I said. "It's impossible."
No," she replied, squeezing my hand, "what's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything OTHER than that.”
― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

“Just that winter she had found herself saying to a young woman who worked with her at the tasting bar on Saturdays that between a man and a woman there was always one person who was stronger than the other one. 'That doesn't mean the weaker one doesn't love the stronger,' she'd pleaded. The girl looked at her blankly. But for my mother what mattered was that as she spoke, she had suddenly identified herself as the weaker one. This revelation sent her reeling. What had she thought all those years but the opposite?
She pulled her chair as close to his head as she could and laid her face on the edge of his pillow to watch him breathing, to see the flutter of the eye beneath his eyelid when he dreamed. How could it be that you could love someone so far from home? She had put billboards and roads in between them, throwing roadblocks behind her and ripping off the rearview mirror, and thought that that would make him disappear? erase their life and children?
It was so simple, as she watched him, as his regular breathing calmed her, that she did not even see it happening at first. She began to think of the rooms in our house and the hours that she had worked so hard to forget spent inside of them. Like fruit put up in jars and forgotten about, the sweetness seemed even more distilled as she returned. There on that shelf were all the dates and silliness of thier early love, the braid that began to form of their dreams, the solid root of a burgeoning family. The first solid evidence of it all. Me.”
― Alice Sebold