You know those primitive tribal people who believed a camera could steal your soul? Turns out they were right.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author
He looks like the kind of boy who would jump trains, strum guitars, and pass a joint.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
I'm not Bonnie™ or Chloe. I'm the essence of her, the nontrademarked person the camera can never capture and my parents have no right to sign over. There is a sovereign nation encased in this skin that MetaReel can never trademark.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
If my sister were a character in a Victorian drama, she would be the snobbish rich girl with a penchant for talking shit about everyone behind their fan.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
The past is past. You tried to kill yourself. So what? I humped a couch in season twelve. We all have our skeletons.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
I don't like seeing myself on camera." But that's not it--that sounds shallow, like I'm worried I'll look fat or something. "It's like somebody is walking on my grave. TV immortalizes you. The episodes are what my family would watch if I died.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
This, I think, is a little glimpse of what life could be like without my family. Home could be a place of laughter and love, a refuge. I'm filled with a terrifying weightlessness, like I've jumped off a cliff, but I know that if I don't look down, I'll be just fine.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
This night felt like a last hurrah, like we could blaze our brightest, at the apex of our insane adolescence. This was our Mardi Gras before the dark days of Lent.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
You can't screw up your own suicide and then expect the universe to give you presents wrapped in the skin of a wonderful boy. That's just not the way it works.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
Somehow, the pain and rage and confusion of the past eighteen years dissolves until all that is left is this one perfect moment; unscripted, unedited, it's ours and ours alone.
Heather DemetriosMots clés ya debut-author debut-novel
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