He was afraid of letting anyone know of his love, because if life had taught him anything, it was that love wasn’t a prize, it was a weapon. And he was so tired of being hurt.
To love,and all the heartache that weighs it down.To love,and all the heartbeats that lift it up.
All this time I thought you were reading to escape the world, but now I know, you didn’t read to escape it; you read to discover it.
You don’t have to be good all the times. It’s okay to be hurt sometimes. It’s okay to feel lost like you’re wandering around the dark. It’s the bad days that make the good ones so much better.
I wasn’t sure of it, but I was almost certain that loneliness was a disease. An infectious, disgusting illness that was slow to creep into your system and overtake you, even though you tried to fight it off the best you could.
Steven and I had always come to the market to check out the fresh flowers, so when Friday came around with the fresh roses, I always stood in the middle of it all, breathing in the memories and breathing out the hurt.
There was nothing as romantic as the feel of a book in your hands.
– I’ll be better tomorrow.- No you won’t. But that’s okay…I’ll wait.- For how long?- How long will I wait? Take forever and multiply it by infinity. And then I’ll wait some more.
Sometimes tomorrow never comes and you’re only left with the memories of yesterdays.
Well then…” I clear my throat once. “You are a fantastic actor,” I say, breathless, and emotionally drugged up on Mr. Sexdorable.