Jenny: How old are you?
Edward: I’m eighteen.
Jenny: I’m eight. That means when I’m eighteen, you’ll be twenty-eight. And when I’m twenty-eight, you’ll only be thirty-eight.
Edward: You’re pretty good at arithmetic.
Jenny: And when I’m thirty-eight, you’ll be forty-eight. That’s not much difference at all.
Edward: Sure is a lot now, though, huh?
I’m pretty much putting my life in danger, but I can’t help it. I’m sitting on my front steps waiting for the storm to roll in. Because tornado season in the south evidently overlaps with winter. Some weird weather we get down here.
I’ve always had a fascination with storms, ever since I was a little girl.
I remember once, sitting right in the middle of the foyer with the screen door closed and the main door open so I could see the storm without actually being on the front porch. I was completely captivated by the dark cloud moving so violently and the power the wind had over everything else.
That’s probably what I loved the most. The fierceness of it all.
“What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”—Chuck Palahniuk (via jorrty)