Lisa Schroeder Quotes

I know. You can be fine, and then,out of nowhere,a memory blindsides you.

Okay.I will go.But only ifyou will give meyour guiltto takewith me.

Ill lose myself in the pain. It might not make sense. But it works.

When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don't even have to kiss to have fireworks go off. It's like fireworks in your heart all the time. I always wondered, do opposites really attract? Now I know for sure they do. I'd grown up going to the library as often as most people go to the grocery store. Jackson didn't need to read about exciting people or places. He went out and found them, or created excitement himself if there wasn't any to be found. The things I like are pretty simple. Burning CDs around themes, like Songs to Get You Groove On and Tunes to Fix a Broken Heart; watching movies; baking cookies; and swimming. It's like I was a salad with a light vinaigrette, and Jackson was a platter of seafood Cajun pasta. Alone, we were good. Together, we were fantastic.

And what I think is thatwhen you’re completely aloneand deep inside yourselfwith feelings no one else can understand,there really aren’t a hundred places to go. It’s like if I woke up one dayand looked outside and saw purple treesand red grass and green dogs,is there anyone I could tell who would understand? No.There’d be no one.It’s exactly like that. He saw purple treesand red grass and green dogswhile no one else did.   And maybe, he just got tiredof seeing them.

See that's exactly why I don't want a dog." "Why?" "Because it'll just die." "Everybody dies, Brooklyn." Like that makes it okay or something.

I know it's not the end...it's only just the beginning.

Was it hard?" I ask.Letting go?"Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real.

It brings me back to the moment, and I want to livethe moment with everything I’ve got.

And then it hits me like a fast, open-palmed, stinging smack in the face.Having a ghost boyfriend WASweird

I hear the word in the hallover and over again.Suicide.Suicide.Suicide.Did he or didn’t he?Everyone’s got a guess.Still no one knows for sure, except Gabe, but he’s not talking. Why does it even matter? He’s gone. His, ours, theirs— blame needs a place. His, ours, theirs— pain all over the place. His, ours, theirs— forgiveness missing from this place.

Lunch can wait. Everything can wait. Time to run.