The Stuff I'm Made Of

Last night while I sobbed silently while finishing The Fault in Our Stars (I highly recommend it!), I realized how much I relish those moments. When everyone is asleep and I can't stop reading by the dim light next to my bed but I don't want it to end and leave it all behind. (I get really attached. On my way to work, I had to force myself not to think about my favorite lines of dialogue, so I wouldn't start crying.) As I reveled in the solitude that makes me feel like there are people who are made out of the same stuff as me, I thought about how these late nights with books won't last forever. For one, I don't know that I would be as engrossed with someone sleep-breathing next to me, and then when I have kids, I will probably be too exhausted (or just wiser with my time). But those thoughts were before I got out of bed to get a Kleenex. Stupidly, I let myself see the trailer to Mama play in my head as if it were happening in my hallway. I ran to my bed as soon as I could, sliding to the middle to avoid any hands reaching out from under my mattress. I had to fall asleep listening to nice songs to keep myself from the terror. And then that left me wishing for the days that I can crawl into bed, wipe my tears, and not be afraid because someone will be there that will understand what I am made of. Or at least want to.