Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it’s true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn’t fade and the scars don’t heal, and it’s too damned late.
Sometimes it’s heartbreaking to see your siblings as the people they’ve become. Maybe that’s why we all stay away from each other as a matter of course.
If at first you don’t succeed, lower you expectations
The only thing worse than not having your dream come true is having it come true for a little while.
I was sprawled out in my usual position on the couch, half asleep but entirely drunk, torturing myself by tearing memories out of my mind at random like matches from a book, striking them one at a time and drowsily setting myself on fire.
I may not be old but I’m too old to have this much nothing
Forgiveness is a comfort, but it doesn’t bring back what you lost
You want to move on, but to do that you have to let her go, and you don’t want to let her go, so you don’t move on.
There’s always a last time. If you could remember every last time, you’d never stop grieving.
The tears come to my eyes so fast, there’s just no way to stop them.
Pity, I’ve learned, is like a fart. You can tolerate your own, but you simply can’t stand anyone else’s.
She got on a plane to see a client in California and somewhere over Colorado, the pilot somehow missed the sky.
At some point, loneliness becomes less a condition than a habit.
It’s just hard to see people from your past when your present is so cataclysmically fucked.
Fate already warned us to pack it in. We just didn’t hear it in time.
…you realize that you don’t understand yourself any better than you understand anyone else.
And I just want to tell you, at some point it doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, beingangry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoningyourself without thinking about it.
And even as she holds on to him, like she’s drowning, she can feel the familiar anger returning, like an old song that you’ve heard so many times it’s not even a song anymore, just a wasted pathway in your brain that you can never reclaim.
I love Hailey and what we have works. Shes’s beautiful, she’s smart, she’s a great mother, and she’s heads above what I ever thought I could see in myself.
…she’ll cry, and if she does, I probably will, and then she’ll have found a way in, and I will not let her pierce my walls in a Trojan horse of sympathy.
I’m a novelist first, and I wrote a bunch of books, and everything I write, I just find people are more interesting when there’s an element of humor to it.