Abigail Haas Quotes

He truth is, we made each other, like we learned about in science class. Symbiosis.

Some pieces couldn't be glued back together. Some people weren't for fixing.
Sometimes, the only thing to do was burn the whole fucking world down and start again.

After so many years drifting, not connected to anything, I'm finally tethered. Safe and loved, in the middle.
We start senior year like kings, like nothing can ever tear us apart.
We're wrong.

Memory and imagination are only a knife edge apart, and I wonder if I'm making it all up: slipping false memories in among the real ones, just to have something to hold onto. Fools gold.

I want to tell them all; the world is bigger than high school.

Wouldn't we all look guilty, if someone searched hard enough?

The truth is, it's not the act that I'm scared of, but giving myself so entirely to someone. As long as there are lines to draw and boundaries to cling to, I can pretend that I'm safe from the wanting that threatens to consume me. I'm separate, still all my own. But after ...
What then? What comes after, when he has that much of me, to do with as he chooses? When I have him. Will it ever be enough?

My mom shows me her old yearbooks, and there are tons of people in there she doesn't talk to anymore. Old boyfriends, best friends ... What do you think happened to them?"
"Maybe they drifted apart."
"That's stupid. You don't drift, not if someone matters to you."
"So maybe they didn't matter, not really."
"Anna?"
"Yeah?"
"I'd never do that. Leave you."
"I know. Me either.

One moment. One picture. One glimpse - that's all it takes to make someone think they know the truth.

Do you love me?"
"You know I do."

"How much?"

"Miles and Miles."

"Deeper than the oceans?"

"Yup. More than the wind."

"Higher than Everest?"

"I don't know, that's pretty high... Ow!" (laughter)

"Admit it. You love me more than anyone." 

"Maybe."

"What about you - how much do you love me?"

"Enough." 

"Hey!"

"You didn't ask, 'Enough for what?'"

"Fine, then. Enough for what?" 

"For Anything." 

"That's Better.

You don't know what's behind that smile. You can't imagine who someone will turn out to be. We assume the sun will rise every morning just because it has done every other day, but what happens when you wake up to darkness? When you open your eyes and find, today is the one different day? I

And so it goes, day after day. Every sharp word and every angry, impure thought. You press them down, pretending they're not a part of who you really are – the sweet, good girl, the smiling, happy person but the truth is, that anger is more real than anything. It burns and blooms and blossoms, twisting tighter with every faked smile until you wonder, what would it be like to just let it free?
Stop pretending. Stop hiding. Stop being the girl they all said you should be.
Imagine that freedom. God, can't you feel it?
What harm could it do?

What happens when you realize in that sick, bloodied moment - no, no, no! - that you can't take it back?
You chose wrong.

Any one of us could be made to look a monster, with selective readings of our history.

Everything will be okay. Trust me. I don't know how many times he's said that to me, not just here in prison but my whole life. When I was scared for the first day of school, or stressed about a big test; when I fell off my bike in sixth grade and split my lip. When my mom got sick. I always believed him. He's my father, he wouldn't lie to me; he's a grown-up, he knows the truth. But now I see his promises for what they really are: hopeful prayers, a mantra he says as much to reassure himself as me. He can't fix this, not even close.

I can't help my mind skipping over the here-and-now and racing on, to what might come next. Consequence and regret and other might-have-beens: plotting out every angle and scenario, knowing all along that the path I take means missing something else.

I'd never met anyone like him before. Every rule I'd ever learned, he was breaking; everything I'd been taught to hide away, he announced it out loud.

History is told by those who win.