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Looking at myself in the mirror, I wondered how it was possible that the sad girl from yesterday could have turned into the one staring back at me. I guessed that was love, a roller coaster of crisscrossing emotions and feelings. One minute, you’re up, and the next, you’re on the ground, and you don’t even know how you got there.
Having something to remember you by would mean it was possible to forget you.
We don’t need a bunch of old dead writers. You and I are poetry, my love.
“The problem is, I love him too much,” I said. “Without him, my life wouldn’t have any meaning, and that worries me.”
“I’m just saying that you come first and everyone else after… You need to always prioritize yourself, and if your happiness depends on a boy, you should reexamine things. Men come and go, but happiness is something you alone can cultivate.”
When I thought sometimes about that part of my life, I couldn’t understand how I’d fucked up so bad.
“Loving you is the most complicated thing I’ve ever done,”
“I love you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life,”
How could he be my sickness and my cure at the same time?
“Nothing wrong with you claiming what’s yours, my love.”
Stop being afraid: I’ll always be your light in the darkness, my love.
