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I’ve always had this theory that if I want something badly enough, the universe will make sure to keep it just out of my reach—either out of boredom or cruelty, like an invisible hand dangling stars on a string.
It’s such a suffocating thought—that everything I will ever feel and know and accomplish must begin and end with my own mind.
we are all our own prisoners
I had stuffed the test in my bag and run out of class to hide in the back of the parking lot, but Aaron had sensed something was wrong. He’d followed me, and when he found me, he didn’t ask what had happened, didn’t tell me to stop. He’d merely covered my eyes with his hands—gentle, always so gentle—and said, You can cry as much as you want. Nobody else will see you.
🥺
