"You're my hero," we both say at the same time. I don't hear Kent move, but all of a sudden his voice is closer, and he's found my hands in the dark, and he's cupping them in his.
Lauren OliverIn one,Einstein is pictured over the words GRAVITY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FALLING IN LOVE.
Lauren OliverThere's a poster with Thomas Edison's quote: GENIUS IS 1 PERCENT INSPIRATION AND 99 PERCENT PERSPIRATION.
Lauren OliverThere it is: the spoken admission that he was hers to lose. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel weirdly deflated, as though they've been swollen, balloonlike, in my chest this whole time
Lauren OliverMaybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose, either. If we didn't get out hearts stomped on, shattered; if we didn't have to patch and repatch it until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together by who knows what
Lauren OliverI learned to tell stories from my mom. "Your dad's not feeling well today," she'd say. I had an accident. She'd say, Remember what happened. You're a clumsy girl. You walk into a door. You tripped and stumbled down a staircase. My favorite story: He doesn't mean to.
She was so good at telling stories that I started to believe them after a while. Maybe I was clumsy. Maybe it was my fault for provoking him.
Maybe he didn't really mean to.
Sometimes I imagine that Tack and I will just crap out— flake on the whole war, the struggle, the resistance. Say good-bye and see you never. We'll go up north and build a homestead together, far away from everyone and everything. We know how to survive. We could do it. Trap and hunt and fish for our food, grow what we can, pop out a whole brood of kids and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. Let it blow itself to pieces if it wants to.
Dreams.
Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge.
Lauren OliverTag: delirium lauren-oliver
Maybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose, either. If we didn't get our hearts stomped on, shattered; if we didn't have to patch and repatch until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what.
If we could just float along, like snow.
That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet. It's the world after a blizzard, the peacefulness that comes with it, the muffled silence and the sense that nothing in the world is moving. It's beautiful, in it's own way.
Maybe we'd be better off.
But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer — big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey — pick the snow?
I'd rather die on my own terms than live on theirs.
Lauren OliverTag: delirium lena-halloway
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