May 26th, 2010
Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I picture my funeral and write eulogies in my head. In the fantasy, I almost always die in some tragic but unavoidable way. A drunk driver mows me down. Or a brain aneurysm. I make sure I suffer little, but die with courage and dignity and clean underwear. I like to think more about the funeral rather than how I die. Who would come? Who would face their fears of public speaking and get their ass to the pulpit? Who would decide that they had better things to do than to show up at all? I wonder if people would cry, and if there is anyone in the world who would hold the tears back for fear of never stopping.
~ Julie Buxbaum
May 25th, 2010
My heart stopped. It just stopped beating. And for the first time in my life, I had that feeling. You know, like the world is moving all around you, all beneath you, all inside you, and you’re floating. Floating in midair. And the only thing keeping you from drifting away is the other person’s eyes.
~ Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped