The Midnight Library

She knew she should be experiencing pity and despair for her feline friend—and she was—but she had to acknowledge something else. As she stared at Voltaire’s still and peaceful expression—that total absence of pain—there was an inescapable feeling brewing in the darkness. Envy.

She didn’t correct his knowledge of diamonds. She didn’t tell him that while coal and diamonds are both carbon, coal is too impure to be able, under whatever pressure, to become a diamond. According to science, you start off as coal and you end up as coal. Maybe that was the real life-lesson.

There was an old musician’s cliché, about how there were no wrong notes on a piano. But her life was a cacophony of nonsense. A piece that could have gone in wonderful directions, but now went nowhere at all.

“Doing one thing differently is often the same as doing everything differently. Actions can’t be reversed within a lifetime, however much we try… But you are no longer within a lifetime. You have popped outside. This is your opportunity, Nora, to see how things could be.”

She saw some anti-depressants—fluoxetine—beside the basin, and picked up the box. She read Prescription for N. Seed at the top of the label. She looked down at her arm and saw the scars again. It was weird, to have your own body offer clues to a mystery.

“Because life is frightening, and it is frightening for a reason, and the reason is that it doesn’t matter which branch of a life we get to live, we are always the same rotten tree. I wanted to be many things in my life. All kinds of things. But if your life is rotten, it will be rotten no matter what you do.”

There was death. Violent, oblivious death, in bear form, staring at her with its black eyes. And she knew then, more than she’d known anything, that she wasn’t ready to die. This knowledge grew bigger than fear itself as she stood there, face to face with a polar bear, itself hungry and desperate to exist, and banged the ladle against the saucepan.

“I mean, it would have made things a lot easier if we understood there was no way of living that can immunize you against sadness. And that sadness is intrinsically part of the fabric of happiness. You can’t have one without the other. Of course, they come in different degrees and quantities. But there is no life where you can be in a state of sheer happiness forever. And imagining there is just breeds more unhappiness in the life you’re in.”

It was as though she had reached some state of acceptance about life—that if there was a bad experience, there wouldn’t only be bad experiences. She realized that she hadn’t tried to end her life because she was miserable, but because she had managed to convince herself that there was no way out of her misery.

It is quite a revelation to discover that the place you wanted to escape to is the exact same place you escaped from. That the prison wasn’t the place, but the perspective. And the most peculiar discovery Nora made was that, of all the extremely divergent variations of herself she had experienced, the most radical sense of change happened within the exact same life. The one she began and ended with.