All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven


I break free from my mind, which is, for some reason, picturing myself as dead as the authors of the books Violet collected, asleep for good this time, buried deep in the ground under layers and layers of dirt and cornfields.

What?! It’s Wednesday?! I don’t even know, people, how that happened. One minute it’s Sunday and there’s loads of time and the next, whoops, I haven’t updated a damn thing.

I might blame being drunk on books for most of the weekend. It’s been a while since I’ve read a whole book in one day, but on Sunday, that happened, and it was delicious. It was a hard and lovely book, recommended by dear b, who is never wrong. I read and read, watched Luca’s basketball game, read some more. Did laundry. Made dinner. Finished my book. Looked up and the world was changed.

And now Barno wants to watch a movie with me and was good enough to deck himself in PJs and look adorable. I insisted he rescue the hamster from the recycling bin, but soon, I know, he’ll be back to the couch. Which sounds pretty great, actually. I’m tired. It’s been a day. My days, they start early. End early, too. Partly because the cold and dark dull me to sleep, partly because life requires such attention it’s a relief to turn away for seven hours, and partly because there is no place cozier than my bed with all its accoutrements: husband, pillows, youngest child, who still slips under the covers halfway through every night.

Did I mention? I keep forgetting to breath. It’s funny, this thing you do all your life without any thought unless suddenly you find yourself drowning, this thing that’s second nature (first nature?) and four days ago I found myself just…forgetting. To breath. And then my heart springs up and I’m back at it, but I tell you–lack of breath is not for the faint of heart.

I’m sure it’s fine. I quit drinking coffee and that didn’t help, so I started back up and the occurrences are fewer in frequency.

Ah. Barno is back with his tea. The hamster has been dispatched to the hamster cage. The day is winding down. And breathing feels fine.

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