“Sometimes you break your heart in the right way, if you know what I mean.”
“You can obsess and obsess over how things ended—what you did wrong or could have done differently—but there s not much of a point. It s not like it ll change anything. So really, why worry?”
“I was in the biggest breakdown of my life when I stopped crying long enough to let the words of my epiphany really sink in. That whore, karma, had finally made her way around, and had just bitch-slapped me right across the face. The realization only made me cry harder.”
“Everybody said, Follow your heart . I did, it got broken”
“Most things break, including hearts. The lessons of life amount not to wisdom, but to scar tissue and callus.”
“Two words. Three vowels. Four constenants. Seven letters. It can either cut you open to the core and leave you in ungodly pain or it can free your soul and lift a tremendous weight off you shoulders. The phrase is: It s over.”
“Out of the millions and millions of people that inhabit this planet, he is one of the tiny few I can never have.”
“It is because I think so much of warm and sensitive hearts, that I would spare them from being wounded.”
“When you lose someone, you get used to living day to day without them. But you’ll never get used to the “10 second heartbreak.” That’s the time it takes to wake to full consciousness each day and remember…”
“I was crying a little for the boy I had wanted him to be and the boy he hadn’t turned out to be.”
“Thought I couldn t live without you It s gonna hurt when it heals too Even though I really love you I m gonna smile cause I deserve to Quickly I m learning to love again All I know is I mma be ok”
“It s very easy to get a boy to leave the room. It s much harder to get him to leave your thoughts.”
“Do you like me?” No answer. Silence bounced, fell off his tongue and sat between us and clogged my throat. It slaughtered my trust. It tore cigarettes out of my mouth. We exchanged blind words, and I did not cry, I did not beg, but blackness filled my ears, blackness lunged in my heart, and something that had been good, a sort of kindly oxygen, turned into a gas oven.”
“She loved him. But he didn’t know how to love. He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love. He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises. She had desperately wanted his promises. She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get. Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation. He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving. If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct. If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself. He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn’t see. If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he’d see his shadow. He was deathly afraid of his shadow. She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it. She thought her love would change him. He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave. He knew he was hurting her, but didn’t know how to share anything but pain. He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him. Her love, her body, she had given to him and he’d taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her. His dark heart concealed. She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender. Wide open, exposed to deception. It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love. It was blinding the way she wanted him. She couldn’t see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen. She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed. He valued his soul’s privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs. Intimacy would lead to his undoing—in his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake. When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it. Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem. She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life. He stirred her core. The place she dared not enter. The place she could not stir for herself. But something wasn’t right. His eyes were cold and dark. His energy, unaffected. He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess. Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain. And her heart stopped.”
“It shattered something inside me that hadn t been broken before.”
“And I m dying to know, is it killing you like it s killing me? And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.”
“I ll tell you something, Harpy, he said, his voice almost a whisper now. It never even occurred to me that we wouldn t make it. And it never occurred to you that we would. You were just waiting for us to go down in flames. I thought we could get through anything.”