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“She averted his eyes, but not before he recognized the pain in them, a tormented and languished gaze, a stare preserved for people who were able to love deeply enough that they could be destroyed by it. For a moment, he knew that gaze intimately, remembering it from a time long gone. The ache of a shattered belief once known. He knew that feeling.”

“Maybe there are some people you can’t unlove no matter how hard you try. Maybe there are some people you stay connected to, because they’ve hurt you to your very core. You keep hoping that somehow the pain can be resolved if they finally do the right thing, but the right thing can never be done because it had to have been done in the past.”

“I hurt myself by hurting you.” His face wore a look of compassion. I hated that look, because it reminded me that he was a good person, that he had tried over and over to apologize. He unwittingly brought out the part of me that I hated, and I projected that hate onto him, because it was easier to hate someone else than to hate myself. Tears poured out of my eyes. And he wrapped his arms around me, holding me as wept. And I hated that his arms still felt good.”

“I needed to walk away. I needed to walked away without trying to fix him or our relationship, but leaving the pieces broken wasn’t easy. It was like leaving shards of the most beautiful glass scattered across your floor, because the pieces were too shattered. And now, you had to step cautiously around the brokenness in order not to slice yourself on the remains.”

“Mistakes we make in the past sometimes keep us connected. Heartache keeps us connected. We want the past to be forgotten, to forget the people we’ve hurt and those who have hurt us and yet, it’s always there, in the periphery of our consciousness, because it has defined part of our life. A part of who we are.”

“She had to be cautious. As much as part of her hated her with every ounce of her flesh, she also loved her. She couldn’t quite reconcile the two, the love with the hate. Instead of feeling like a fluid stream with one on each end, her emotions drifting somewhere in the middle, where love and hate exist simultaneously, she flipped from one dramatic extreme to the other. Sometimes she loved her so much she wanted to devour her, and other times she hated her so much she thought she might kill her.”

“Kiss me hard, let your wetness linger along my lips. I want to drown against you, our bodies woven together and raging in ecstatic synchrony. I don’t want to lie in an easy, hollow embrace. I want to feel the hunger emanating from you. I want the desire to swallow me. I want it to hurt. I want you to show me that this matters. That we matter. That you would risk it all for me. Love me with everything you have or don’t love me at all.”

“Place your truth on my hips. Don’t tell me who you are. Show me with your sincerity, let me see the helplessness in your eyes, wrap your irreverence around me. I’ve been afraid. My freedom has been mistaken for frivolousness, my sexuality for carelessness. Double standards imposed with hypocritical fingers and incurious hearts. I’ve relinquished myself to the wrong ideologies. I’m tired of having to cover my vulnerability to protect others from feeling theirs. Expose me, penetrate me with broad philosophies, let us collide recklessly with freedom. Steal my wild heart, but do not ask me to live under an umbrella when I like being soaked by the rain.”

“I love you. I loved you every day since I first met you. No matter what, that will never change." His admission caught her off-guard. It diffused her rage. She could see the passion, the anguish, the wanting, the love, all of it in his eyes as he said with undeniable vehemence that he would never stop loving her. And as she looked into his eyes, she knew that she would never stop loving him either. And it hurt to love him.”

“Run your fingers across my skin, slowly. Tear down my layers. I want to feel you within. Life is unpredictable. I have been afraid. I have been sad. I have been disappointed. But I don’t want to live behind walls of safety, because I have been hurt. I want to feel your skin against mine and your fingers wandering across me. I want our lives to intertwine dangerously, our essences naked and colliding in reckless passion. I don’t want to exist trapped behind a wall, observing life as an outsider from a window seat. I want you to strip me down layer by layer and hold me from the inside out.”

“Come to me in the dark, bring me all of your scars. I want to know every crack in your heart, every ache, every memory that haunts you. I want to see the realness in your face, the way your eyes stay light even when you talk of pain, and the way your lips are uneven when you smile. The grooves carved into your soul have made you beautiful and I want to run my fingers across the etches. I know people cover wounds and disguise their damage, but this is what makes you, you, and I want to know you. I want to sink inside of you and feel your depth. Don’t protect me from your story. We all have a story and I’m tired of drowning alone.”

“You kept me down so you would feel up, but love isn't a competition. The sun and the moon exist simultaneously in their aloneness, bestowing light, guiding life and time, because they work together. I'm not sure if I'm the sun or if I'm the moon, but I have found a love that embraces the equality of their inseparable connection.”

“The Silence of the Final Goodbye I knew you best from the silences, The time and space in between, The moment before our lips touched, The way your arms went up in the air before you laughed, The smile that we shared before we talked, The redness on your face before your tears, The sensation of your arms around me after you released the embrace. The look you gave me before you walked away, Nothing had ever been so painful, No words could say what your eyes told me, When I wake in the morning without you, It’s the first thing I hear… The silence of the final goodbye.”

“You can’t make yourself love someone you don’t.” “And you can’t love someone if you don’t let them in. You have the potential for great love. I always felt that capacity within you. Don’t deprive yourself of the opportunity to experience something so beautiful with someone just because you’re holding onto a relationship that will never be.”

“Too many times, I confused my melancholy for loneliness and sought comfort in the wrong arms. Too many times, I surrendered myself to my own illusions, trying to find something that I didn’t understand. Always searching for an elusive affection, desire so pervading it was painful in its insatiability. Every time I held it close, it slipped through my fingers, my body resting in the depth of others only to find myself shivering in shallow water. When you wrapped yourself around me, I knew it was different. A subtlety I had never known, in your embrace. Our restless, wandering souls came together, ideas and passions transforming into redamancy. I know it now – that elusive something I had always wanted – with you, every day, in every kiss, the way you touch me, in dark and light, in the illumination of all of the little things, with hundreds of no matter whats and the taste of forever.”

“When someone shares their distress or their inadequacies, the natural inclination is to comfort them. To mollify. When we do this we brush over their emotions, often because they make us uncomfortable. Most times, people don’t want a blanket. They want someone who is willing to stand outside and shiver with them in the cold.”

“It’s this thing I have. I’m sorry if it scared you. I feel other people’s feelings. I imagine crumbling insides and splitting hearts, goodbyes that hang in the air before they break into tiny pieces. I hear words that aren’t said, the echoes of lonely hallways and hollow footsteps. I hear sobs that soak pillowcases when all the lights are out and the world is sleeping. I carry this inside of me, all of it. I knew you paced the floor at night, trying to walk over all the things you didn’t want me to know. But I felt every wound you ever endured when I rested against you. I felt the ache that I have, deep inside of me, on your lips. Every time we kissed, I tasted a lifetime of tangled paths and bumpy roads woven with joined hands. Love isn’t blind, you see. I felt everything you were and could be, if only you stopped hiding in the same darkness you sheltered me from. I knew who you could become if someone loved you just right. I’m sorry if that scared you. Just in case you were wondering, I still love you and I'll keep the lights dim. Come home.”

“I rested my chin on my paws, wondering if she’d ever be able to open her heart to another man-human. I knew firsthand how hard it was to try again, to let yourself be loved by someone who could love you back after you’d been hurt. And I knew sometimes when someone said mean things if you were sensitive you couldn’t shake it no matter how much you knew it wasn’t the truth.”

“I loved being near you. Even though I felt that bubble you had around you, even though I never quite knew what you were thinking, damn, did I love being near you. Somehow, I knew you would rip me apart and drown me. Somehow, I knew we wouldn’t last. It didn’t matter. You were my sun. I loved feeling you upon me, around me, between me. Even though you could only love me from a distance, I didn’t care. I never felt more warmth inside of me than when you were against me.”

“Love was feeling the person everywhere, under your skin, in every strand of your hair, in your heart, in your bones, in the tone of your voice when you said their name. Love wasn’t always about being with the person, it was feeling that your world was better just because they lived. Even if you weren’t ever going to be together, he was the air you breathed, invisible but everywhere.”

“But she just couldn’t stop checking her phone; she wanted to stop, tried to stop, but the pull would not let her go. It was a strange experience for her to be doing the obsessive phone-checking thing. Vanessa talked about it, and she had heard stories about it from other friends. One date with a guy and suddenly the phone becomes like an appendage endowed with some super power to predict your future.”

“I suffer from chronic nostalgia. Looking back makes me dizzy, queasy, and I yearn for it, ache for it. I want it back; maybe the homesickness will leave then. But it’s not the way I remember it. I long for a past that I didn’t have, for the same experiences with different emotions, without the pain, without the ambivalence, without the fear. My heart remembers two different lives and I long for the one I can only see now, in retrospect.”

“Forgiveness was complicated. When someone hurt us, betrayed us, they took something from us, trust, a belief that life was predictable, faith in people. It was easier to stay angry at someone else than to admit how vulnerable we were. We could all get hurt. And the people we loved the most were the ones that could hurt us the greatest. We were most vulnerable to them. But what was love if not giving those parts that scared us.”