I know the evil that exists. I know the terrible things people do to each other. I’ve lived it. I’ve survived it. But just because I’ve seen the palette of dark colors doesn’t mean I have to paint the rest of my world that way. I can choose the bright colors instead. I can see them, paint them, draw them, surround myself with them like a loud, glorious song drowning out all the darkness in the world.

Amidst the wreckage of overturned furniture and shattered belongings, lying motionless and silent, are my parents.

Hot chocolate with mini rose-infused star marshmallows floating on its surface and a swirling cinnamon cloud above it.

My pitch is off here and there, and my vibrato isn’t quite what it used to be, but I’m lost in a land of wishing stars and lemon drops and dreams that really do come true. Slowly, bit by bit, as the music rises and falls, pieces of my soul I didn’t even know were missing fit themselves back together.

The awkward moment in which I discover that both my wife and my sister have made out with the same guy.

They share a look filled with meaning. Realized dreams, old fears, shared hopes, and a lifetime of memories. They clasp hands and step beneath the canopy together where the Seelie Court officiant is standing.

Why do I get the feeling our relationship is backwards?” Ryn asks as he wanders into my room, shrugs his jacket off, and hangs it over the back of my desk chair. “Isn’t it usually the girl who always wants to talk about feelings and the guy who bottles everything up inside?” “I don’t bottle things up,” I shoot back. Well, there is an imaginary box I like to hide things in, but that’s different. “Right.

Seeing him standing there in his boxers and hoodie with sticking-up hair, one sock pulled up to his calf, the other scrunched around his ankle, and his glasses just a tiny bit skew, my wildly beating heart falls in love with him all over again.

You don’t understand. The closer I get to the edge, the more it feels like the ground is tilting. Like it’s getting steeper and steeper and I’m sliding towards the edge, and if I don’t hold onto something I’ll slide right off and plummet to the ground.”“What if,” I say quietly, “you hold onto me?

Life isn’t always about things you can see or hear or touch. Sometimes it’s more than that.