[Narration] In the end we had pieces of the puzzle, but no matter how we put them together, gaps remained. Oddly shaped emptiness mapped by what surrounded them, like countries we couldn’t name. What lingered after them was not life, but the most trivial list of mundane facts. A clock ticking on the wall, a room dim at noon, the *outrageousness* of a human being thinking only of herself.
“they wouldn’t leave our minds, but they were slipping away, the colour of their eyes was fading, along with the exact locations of moles and dimples. From 5 they had become 4, and they were all living in the dead, becoming shadows…”
The essence of the suicides consisted of not sadness or mystery but simple selfishness. The girls took into their own hands decisions better left to God. They became too powerful to live among us, too self-concerned, too visionary, too blind. What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageouness of a human being thinking only of herself. Her brain going dim to all else, but flaming up in precise points of pain, personal injury, lost dreams. —The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides (via wishingoceans)
Trip: She was the still point of the turning world, man. I never got over that girl. Never. I mean… you know, I loved a lot of ladies, but not like that. That was real. I’ll never forget the first time I saw her. I didn’t know what had hit me. I didn’t know what to do, cause it was so easy with all the other girls, but she wouldn’t look at me. I was never the kind to pursue, if you know what I mean. That girl drove me crazy, man.
We would never be sure about the sequence ofevents. We argue about it still. Most likely Bonnie had died while we were waiting in the living room, dreaming of highways. Mary put her head in the oven shortly thereafter. Therese, stuffed with sleeping pills, was gone by the time we got there. Lux was the last to go.