I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.
Carol Rifka BruntNothing had changed. I was the stupid one again. I was the girl who never understood who she was to people.
Carol Rifka BruntMots clés love unrequited-love
Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.
Carol Rifka BruntMots clés love unrequited-love impossible love-hurts
She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.
Carol Rifka BruntYou could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.
Carol Rifka BruntMots clés belief
Greta knows that for me there are no good parties. I’m okay with one or two people, but more than that and I turn into a naked mole rat. That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I’m trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it’s over and there’s one more person in the world who thinks I’m a complete and total waste of space.
Carol Rifka BruntI didn’t say anything. Greta always knew how to make me lose my words.
Carol Rifka BruntI . . . Why do you want me to?”
There was a flicker of something in Greta’s look. I couldn’t tell whether it was a flicker of love or regret or meanness, and then she said, “Why wouldn’t I want you to?”
Because you hate me, I thought, but I didn’t say it.
Maybe when you’re dead you can crawl inside other people and make them nicer than they were before.
Carol Rifka BruntIt was a nice thing for her to say. In her way. With Greta you have to look out for the nice things buried in the rest of her mean stuff. Greta’s talk is like a geode. Ugly as anything on the outside and for the most part the same on the inside, but every once in a while there’s something that shines through.
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