They ask, how could this happen here? Well. How could it not happen here?
That's what happens to dreams, life gets in the way.
It was possible that a miracle was not something that happened to you, but rather something that didn’t.
Life was what happened when all the what-ifs didn't.
You always knew after shitty things happened, who your friends really were.
What she couldn't put into word was what had happened in between to change her from one person into the other
Just so you know: if this ever happens to you, you will not be ready.
Accidents did not just happen. From time to time they were carefully plotted, calculated, and arranged to one’s advantage-all, of course, under the cloak of happenstance.
Why are you doing this to yourself? When something bad happens, why do you have to pick at it until it bleeds all over again?
You can’t undo something that’s happened; you can’t take back a word that’s already been said out loud.
There is no one truth. There’s only what happened, based on how you perceive it.
I write about all the horrible things that can happen to kids as a way of keeping those things from happening to mine. Write the books, spit three times over your shoulder and you're safe.
If you didn't remember something happening, was it because it never had happened? Or because you wished it hadn't?