It Was Like That Part Of My

That Was The Thing About Being On The Inside: The World Was Just Going On, Even When It Seemed Like Time For You Had Stopped For Good.

That Sucks, Though," Wes Said Finally, His Voice Low. "you're Just Setting Yourself Up To Fail, Because You'll Never Get Everything Perfect." "says Who?" He Just Looked At Me. "the World," He Said, Gesturing All Around Us, As If This Party, This Deck Encompassed It All. "the Universe. There's Just No Way. And Why Would You Want Everything To Be Perfect, Anyway?" "i Don't Want Everything To Be Perfect," I Said. Just Me, I Thought. Somehow. "i Just Want—

I Mean, At First, It Was Kind Of Disappointing. But People Recover From Disappointment. Otherwise We'd All Be Hanging From Nooses. Right?

I Think Whenever A Writer Is Really Enjoying Themselves And Liking What They Are Doing, That Shows On The Page.

For Once, You Believed In Yourself. You Believed You Were Beautiful And So Did The Rest Of The World.