Title: Every Day
Author: David Levithan
Publication Date: August 28th 2012
Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers
ISBN: 0307931889
ISBN13: 9780307931887
Rating: 
Every day a different body. Every day a different life. Every day in love with the same girl.
There’s never any warning about where it will be or who it will be. A has made peace with that, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.
It’s all fine until the morning that A wakes up in the body of Justin and meets Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon. From that moment, the rules by which A has been living no longer apply. Because finally A has found someone he wants to be with—day in, day out, day after day.
This is one of those books that even when you're done reading it, just the memory of what went through the book will make you nostalgic. I have finished reading this book last week, and until now, I still get sad thinking about A. I wished I was the author so I could give a different ending or so I could write another book for him. I don't to spoil the story for you but yeah, there's no HEA for A.
I kind feel envious towards David Levithan because the concept of this book is somewhat new. I guess this was the first time I encountered this kind of story. I really wished I was the one who came up with an idea like this.
This is how A feels every single day. From the moment he was born (if he was really born), he wakes up to a different body every day. He only realized that there's something wrong when he was 9 or so. But then, he got used to it and then it didn't really matter anymore because that was just how he was made. He doesn't have a choice and he had no idea how this kind of inhabiting a body happens.
I really feel sorry for A. It must be really hard for him to adjust everyday. And I guess he got used to that kind of normalcy. Then one day, everything changed. He met a girl, Rhiannon. She made him feel things he doesn't normally feel. He became interested. He wanted to connect to people. He knows that he cannot do any of those things, but he still did it anyway. He broke his rule not to get attached to the bodies he inhibited. He suddenly wanted to protect Rhiannon from her boyfriend, the body he occupied.
Overall, it was really good. The characters and the story line kept me interested up until the end of the book. I only gave it a 4 because I really don't like the ending. I wish the author gave clearer resolution for A's character.
We all contain mysteries, especially when seen from the outside.
We all want everything to be okay. We don't even wish so much for fantastic or marvelous or outstanding. We will happily settle for okay, because most of the time, okay is enough.
Putting up with the fear of being with the wrong person because you can't deal with the fear of being alone.
What is it about the moment you fall in love How can such a small measure of time contain such enormity? I suddenly realize why people believe in déjà vu, why people believe they've lived past lives, because there is no way the years I've spent on this earth could possibly encapsulate what I'm feeling. The moment you fall in love feels like it has centuries behind it, generations - all of them rearranging themselves so that this precise, remarkable intersection could happen. In your heart, in your bones, no matter how silly you know it is, you feel that everything has been leading to this, all the secret arrows were pointing here, the universe and time itself crafted this long ago, and you are just now realizing it, you are just now arriving at the place you were always meant to be.
It's one thing to fall in love. It's another to feel someone else falling in love with you, and to feel a responsibility toward that love.
People are rarely attractive in reality as they are in the eyes of the people who are in love with them.
It's almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.
Sometimes memory tricks you. Sometimes beauty is best when it's distant.
Kindness connects to who you are, while niceness connects to how you want to be seen.
I don't want to love her. I don't want to be in love. People take love's continuity for granted, just as they take their body's continuity for granted. They don't realize that the best thing about love is its regular presence. Once you can establish that, it's an added foundation to your life. But if you cannot have that regular presence, you only have the one foundation to support you, always.
It's as if when you love someone, they become your reason.
Being with someone for over a year can mean that you love them…but it can also mean you're trapped.
There are many things that can keep you in a relationship. Fear of being alone. Fear of disrupting the arrangement of your life. A decision to settle for something that's okay, because you don't know if you can get any better. Or maybe there's the irrational belief that it will get better, even if you know he won't change.
You shouldn't have to venture deep down in order to get to love.
Race is different purely as a social construction, not as inherent difference. And religion - whether you believe in God or Yahweh or Allah or something else, odds are that at heart you want the same things. For whatever reason, we like to focus on the 2 percent that's different, most of the conflict in the world comes from that.
I've found that people tend to trust other people who dress like them.
I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality.
Falling in love with someone doesn’t mean you know any better how they feel. It only means you know how you feel.
This is the trap of having something to live for: Everything else seems lifeless.
Some people think mental illness is a matter of mood, a matter of personality. They think depression is simply a form of being sad, that OCD is a form of being uptight. They think the soul is sick, not the body. It is, they believe, something that you have some choice over.
I am always amazed by people who know something is wrong but still insist on ignoring it, as if that will somehow make it go away. They spare themselves the confrontation, but end up boiling in resentment anyway.
Part of growing up is making sure your sense of reality isn't entirely grounded in your own mind.
I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn't make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.
Beauty come naturally, but it's hard to be stunning by accident.
If your beauty is unquestioned, so many other things can go unquestioned as well.
But do you know what happens to girls who love lost boys? They become lost themselves. Without fail.
This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it's just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be.
When no one else is around, we open ourselves to the quieter astonishments that enormity can offer.
Every relationship has a hard part at the beginning. This is our hard part. It's not like a puzzle piece where there's an instant fit. With relationships, you have to shape the pieces on each end before they go perfectly together.
As if when someone close to us dies, we momentarily trade places with them, in the moment right before. And as we get over it, we're really living their life in reverse, from death to life, from sickness to health.
I wanted love to conquer all. But love can't conquer anything. It can't do anything on its own. It relies on us to do the conquering on its behalf.
When first love ends, most people eventually know there will be more to come. They are not through with love. Love is not through with them. It will never be the same as the first, but it will be better in different ways.
I will never have a photograph of her to carry around in my pocket. I will never have a letter in her handwriting, or a scrap-book of everything we've done. I will never share an apartment with her in the city. I will never know if we are listening to the same song at the same time. We will not grow old together. I will not be the person she calls when she's in trouble. She will not be the person I call when I have stories to tell. I will never be able to keep anything she's given to me.
