Cat Clarke Quotes

It doesn't get any easier. No matter what they say, time doesn't heal the wound. Time just unravels and shows you new and more painful ways to miss someone. The longer they've been gone, the worse it is. You start to forget their smile or the way they tilted their head when they were confused or the way they looked at you and knew exactly what you were thinking. You can look at them in photos, but it's not even close to the real thing, and pretty soon you feel like your real memories are being replaced by the photo memories - like the only way you can picture them anymore is in one of those photographs. They become two-dimensional, and it rips your heart out whenever you think about it so you really try not to.

It's when I'm alone that the doubt sets in. It's been that way for years. As long as there are people around, I can pretend that everything's OK. But I need that audience to pretend for, otherwise it doesn't work. Alone, I'm not that easy to fool.

The butterflies in my stomach turn into vampire bats as we pull up to the school.

I called no one, and no one called me. I was suffocating with loneliness. The pain was almost physical. I felt like tearing myself apart. I wanted to escape from my own skin.

It's too weird to think about - how death seems to rewrite all the rules. People who never talked to each other can suddenly cry together. People who used to be close can hardly bear to be in the same room.

I wanted to grab his stupid ears and smash his stupid head against the door until his stupid brains leaked out. Instead, I did nothing.

You have to understand that not everything in the world is black and white.

Her brain is like a filing cabinet – everything neatly stored in categories. My brain is more like soup – everything all blended and mushed together.

Every good story deserves a happy ending – it's a basic rule of storytelling. The boy next door certainly shouldn't die.

Our midnight feasts aren't so much 'lashings of ginger beer' as 'whatever booze we can smuggle in'.

I know people think suicide is selfish, and maybe sometimes it really is. But what happened to Kai was beyond what anyone should have to cope with. I didn't blame him, not really. It just broke my heart that I wasn't enough to keep him here.

The thought of going to sleep forever was delicious. I was so very tired.

It may just be a small step in a bigger battle, but it was something at least. Before you know it, lots of small steps can cover a lot of ground.

I lean into him and tuck my head into that space between his head and his shoulder - the space that I always thought was custom-made just for me.

I didn't just wake up one morning and think, "I'm a boy!" It sort of crept up on me and tapped me on the shoulder a few times before I started to pay attention I began to think that the word "girl" didn't quite fit me. It was like a shoe that was too small -- it pinched me.

You know what they say: "Your school years are the best years of your life." To which I say, "If that's true, I might as well kill myself now.

I couldn't blame him for not believing me because it wasn't exactly true. The truth is that you /do/ care. Of course you do. And it hurts to hear people say those things about you. But the hurt changes, over time. At first, it's sharp and hot, like a fiery dagger stabbing you in the heart, but when you've heard the same insults over and over and over, the pain changes. It becomes a dull, throbbing ache -- like a toothache. A sort of background pain that you can ignore for a few minutes at a time, except when you're lying in bed at night, trying to sleep. That's when it really gets to you.

Your brother is hilarious! And possibly gayEntangled by Cat Clarke

I never lost the certainty that he was the perfect boy. The perfect boy for me anyway. I just tried not to think about it, because it made me ache inside.

It's amazing, the lies you can tell yourself. Even more amazing, the lies you can believe when you're desperate enough.

Maybe this is how madness works. At first you're worried you're going crazy, but in the end you don't even care. You embrace it; it's the only thing you've got left. The only thing you can trust when the rest of the world has gone to shit.

I remember. All of it. And it hurts. More than I'd ever thought possible.
I know where I am and what I've done and why I can't move or speak or open my eyes. And I'm scared.
It was all a terrible mistake.
I'd like not to be here. I'd like to go home now.
Please.
Please

This is the real way a friendship ends. Not with some huge screaming row, but with a gradual withdrawal. You'd think it would be less painful this way.

Kai, are you sure you're OK? You're acting a little weird.'
He kissed me on the forehead. 'Ah, Jemima! Weirdness is one of my many charms.' Then he grabbed me in a bear hug and squeezed so hard I thought I might pass out.

You feel like tiptoeing on the morning after a big argument. You're not quite sure if you're going to launch right back into where you left off in the argument, or whether a few hours of sleep will have miraculously solved everything.

And he could never understand that I could never feel OK again as long as I knew she was hurting.

Another prayer to a God I didn't quite believe in.

Has this version of me been lurking there all along, somewhere deep below the surface, biding its time, waiting for its chance to make an appearance?

It's entirely possible to get to know someone without actually seeing them in person. In fact, it's better like that because none of the superficial stuff gets in the way. You really get to know a person. And it's easier to express yourself when you're writing things down. At least it is for me. I like to order my thoughts, and delete them if they don't make any sense. You can't do that in real life.

I won't ever give up.

She didn't deserve to die. No one deserves that.

He drives a newish-looking silver van.
Man in van = obviously dodgy.

I wish she knew that there are other options besides "complete and utter breakdown" and "plastic smile, everything's fine." There's a middle ground, waiting to be found.

I can just close my eyes and let myself fall into oblivion. Maybe I'll hit the exact same rocks and my blood will mingle with his and maybe there's some kind of life after death and he's waiting for me there with his hand outstretched just like mine.
But ...
I don't want to die.
I try to twist my body backwards and pain shoots up my neck.
It's too late.
I chose life too late.

Everyone thought that things were getting back to normal. They had no idea that normal didn't exist for me any more. Normal had been smashed on the rocks beneath the bridge.

I smile. On the inside though, so no one can see. A secret smile just for me.