There are so many things that demand to be said. Where did you go? Do you ever think about me? You’ve ruined me. Are you okay? But of course, I can’t say any of that.
(Where She Went by Gayle Forman)
This is the house I grew up in. The house where I walked for the first time. The house of growing.
This is the house of traditions. The house full of whispers of memories long gone. The house of giggling girls in the middle of the night.
This is the house of the better half of me. The house where I learned the most about myself. The house in which my best friend lives.
This is the house I come from. The house I leave today. The house I’ll return to soon.
And yet she could not forgive herself. Even as an adult, she wished only that she could go back and change things: the ungainly things she’d worn, the insecurity she’d felt, all the innocent mistakes she made.
—Jhumpa Lahiri, Unaccustomed Earth (via bookmania)