It was long past midnight. Laura's music played on. It was composed in the language of stars, tinkling in a crystal pool suspended from constellations. She used chimes now and then, the chimes that characterized every patio in Arizona, the piano, the trees combed by wind. A prelude to a storm. It was like discovering the secret room in a dream of your house that holds all the magic. It was music I wished I lived inside. Around us, cactus, hills filled with jumping cholla, the heat of August like another animal heaving over us.
You can miss places. You can miss people.
Just know that what you’re really missing is the way things were. And even if you could go there again…. see them again…. you can’t go back.
They’re not the same.
You’re not the same.
The loss of them changed you.
It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life…
But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday….
….. and you’ll erase me completely.
Say to yourself, I am perfect, the way I am. Say to yourself, I am beautiful the way I am. Say to yourself, those who do not accept me the way I am, do not deserve me in their life.
There’s only ever been one person I’ve looked at and thought…
‘I could quite easily spend the entire rest of my life with that man’.
And sooner or later I need to accept that he’s spending it with somebody else.
The female brain itself is a highly intuitive emotion-processing machine, which when put to practice in the progress of the society, would do much more than any man can with all his analytical perspectives.