When I was a little kid, I realized that if you say any word over and over fast enough, it loses all meaning. I’d lie awake saying the words over and over to myself–‘sugar,’ ‘mirror,’ ‘whisper,’ ‘dark.’ ‘Sister,'” he said softly. “You’re my sister.” “It doesn’t matter how many times you say it. It’ll still be true.” “And it doesn’t matter what you won’t let me say, that’ll still be true too.
