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Quote by Sarvesh Jain

“Sometimes your heart breaks in such a way that you don’t feel excited anymore. New car, new phone, best friend getting married. Nothing. In. Life. Excites. You. Anymore.”

Quote by Sarvesh Jain

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Sarvesh Jain

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“There are fleeting visions of our ex having a wonderful time without us, laughing at how much we held them back whilst they mess around with multiple partners who are all far superior lovers than we ever were. Terrible thoughts. Painful. Wait, I have an idea! Let’s drown those horrific feelings in floods of booze and bury them beneath mountains of drugs immediately! That should show them! Yay! Of course, this is akin to shoving fistfuls of cotton wool into an open wound in hopes that it will stop the bleeding. It may work for a little while, but ultimately, you are going to end up with a severe infection, and you will die.”

“One of the most common variations of breakup advice is to get back on the horse. Another version is when unimaginative people inform you of how many fish there are in the sea. The problem with these so-called “insightful” consultations is that they are far too preoccupied with animals when we need to be looking at humans here.”

“The pub. It remained the only place in the world that had not evolved into anything more sophisticated. The buildings rose, the towers hit never- ending growth spurts, the concrete sidewalks turned to polycarbonate glass billboards, and the cars drove people. But the pubs—the pubs with their gritty melancholy—endured time. No matter how advanced this species grew to be, the human heart was never short of confusion and in need of the rugged, little lullaby of alcohol and alone time.”

“People carry too many memories on their back and after a while it gets too hard to walk. The poets say you get stronger, but the scientists say that overworking the muscle deteriorates the muscle. There had been sensations Isaac wanted to feel, people to meet, and places to see, but the torture one had to endure to get to any one of those points required three to five suicides.”

“The old jukebox was playing one of Wild Bill’s favorites, Nat King Cole’s, “Smile”—so I knew I was in the right place. I paused a moment to listen to the words, blinking back tears. Intuitively, I knew Wild Bill wouldn’t want to see Sam crying, so I headed to the phone affixed to the wall, pretending to be chatting up an old friend. My fingers traced graffiti on the walls, phone numbers, and hearts with initials engraved inside. Gathering my emotions, I waited for the song to end.”