You’re the problem. It’s always been you.
You don’t get a happy ending.
You’re just pretending to be someone worth caring about.
You’re hard to love and easy to leave.
You don’t belong anywhere.
You’re replaceable.
You push everyone away.
You don’t deserve the kind of love you dream about.
You’re a mistake people try to be polite about.
You’ll never be enough, no matter how hard you try.
You’re the reason things fall apart.
If people really knew you, they would leave.
Chapter 17
Tilly
I’m going to tell him.
No, I am not.
I am.
No.
It feels like plucking petals off a rose — he loves me, he loves me not — except it isn’t about love at all.
It is about whether I’ll destroy myself by speaking.
He sits across from me at the kitchen counter, hoodie loose around his shoulders, fingers tapping against his cereal bowl like he has all the time in the world.
I almost wish he didn’t.
His eyes don’t leave mine, but they aren’t sharp or demanding.
Just steady. Like a lighthouse.
You can tell me anything.
Does he mean everything, though? Or just the normal things? The easy stuff.
The parts of me that fit into a story that isn’t ugly.
“I—” My voice catches. My throat feels like it’s closing.
Little does he know he is looking at the mask I’ve perfected.
He looks at it every day.
