Quotes by Katja Millay

People like to say love is unconditional, but its not, and even if it was unconditional, its still never free. Theres always an expectation attached. They always want something in return. Like they want you to be happy or whatever and that makes you automatically responsible for their happiness because they wont be happy unless you are ... I just dont want that responsibility.

You know I meant it. I am human. And male. And not remotely blind. Do you want me to say it again? You are distractingly, even if-that-is-not-a-real-word pretty. You are so pretty that I bullied Clay Whitaker into drawing me a picture of you so I could look at you when you arent around. You are so pretty that one of these days Im going to lose a finger in my garage because I cant concentrate with you so close to me. You are so pretty that I wish you werent so I wouldnt want to hit every guy at school who looks at you, especially my best friend.

Plus, once he did the requisite double-take and recognized me, he’d probably beat the crap out of any guy who looked at me in all my Snow White meets Frederick’s of Hollywood glory.

I need to know that theres a way for people like us to end up okay. I need to know that there even is such a thing as okay, maybe even good, and its out there and we just havent found it yet. Theres got to be a happier ending than this, here. Theres got to be a better story. Because we deserve one. You deserve one.

I will never forget what you did to me. I will never forgive it. I will never stop mourning what you stole from me. But I realize now I cant steal it back and Im done spending every day trying to.

I live in a world without magic or miracles. A place where there are no clairvoyants of shapeshifters, no angels or superhuman boys to save you. A place where people die and music disintegrates and things suck. I am pressed so hard against the earth by the weight of reality that some days I wonder how I am still able to lift my feet and walk.

And maybe I’m a liar and I do need it, because being kissed by Josh Bennett is kind of like being saved. It’s a promise and a memory of the future and a book of better stories.When he stops, I’m still here, and he’s still looking at me like he can’t believe I am, and I want to keep that look forever.“Emilia,” he says, and when he does, it warms me to my soul. “Every day you save me.

I live in a world without magic or miracles. A place where there are no clairvoyants or shapeshifters, no angels or superhuman boys to save you. A place where people die and music disintegrates and things suck. I am pressed so hard against the earth by the weight of reality that some days I wonder how I am still able to lift my feet to walk.

What did you see when you died? He has that tenative half smile, like hes almost embarrassed by what hes saying. Because Im guessing it wasnt the Sea of Tranquility.And when I look at him, Im not so sure it wasnt.“Where did you go? His voice drops just slightly and loses even the suggestion of a smile.Hes watching me like hes not sure hes allowed to ask the question, and hes not even sure he wants the answer. I can almost see his grandfathers words and Joshs doubts about them swimming in his head. On every side of me are the lights and the tools and the wood and the boots and the boy I want to see forever. And if the my Sea of Tranquility were real, it would be this place, here, with him.I dont say anything right away, because I just want one minute to look at his face before I give him my last secret.And then I tell him.Your garage.

It doesnt matter if you do everything right, if you dress the right way and act the right way and follow all the rules, because evil will find you anyway. Evils resourceful that way.

But you can only go so long being angry before you learn to hate.

I didnt belong in this world anymore. Its not that I wanted to be dead, I just felt like I should be.

I think I’ll stay in pieces. I can shift them, rearrange, depending on the day, depending on what I need to be. I can change on a whim and be so many different girls and none of them has to be me.

People who have never been through any sort of shit always assume that they know how you should react to having your life destroyed. And the people who have been through shit think youre suppose to deal with it the exact same way they did. As if theres a playbook for surviving hell.

My jealousy is a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing. Like my rage and my mothers regret.

Id watch her, amazed at just how much a person could accomplish fueled by tea and regret.

My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window.

I stayed in therapy long enough to know that nothing that happened to me was my fault. I didnt do anything to invite it or deserve it. But that just makes it worse. Maybe I dont blame myself for what happened, but when they tell you that something was completely and utterly random, theyre also telling you something else. That nothing you do matters. It doesnt matter if you do everything right, if you dress the right way and act the right way and follow all the rules, because evil will find you anyway. Evils resourceful that way. ... They tell you it was random to make you feel blameless. But all I hear them telling me is that I have no control, and if I have no control, then Im powerless. I would have preferred being blamed.

I hate my left hand. I hate to look at it. I hate it when it stutters and trembles and reminds me that my identity is gone. But I look at it anyway; because it also reminds me that Im going to find the boy who took everything away from me. Im going to kill the boy who killed me, and when I kill him, Im going to do it with my left hand.

Maybe I dont need to save her forever. Maybe I can just save her right now, in this moment, and if I can do that, maybe it will save me and maybe that can be enough.