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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Some loves you pretend you don’t feel, even when you can, even when you know you do, even if he’s the first thing you think of in the morning, even if he’s like a match in the darkened room of your heart—because loving something how you love him is a painful love that puts rocks in your pockets and melancholy in your eyeballs and if time has taught you anything it’s that it doesn’t matter. You’ll love him forever anyway.
He’s the only man I’ve ever grieved the loss of, the only love I’ve ever loved.
Loving someone like I love her fucks you up a bit. Fucking up how I fucked up also fucks you up a bit.
The lights go off and she stares at me through the darkness a few seconds longer, and I love her in the dark. I mean, fuck it—I down and out love her in all spectrums of light, even the absence of it.
Painful things can still be beautiful things, in case you didn’t know.
How many people will look at me like he does, not just like I’m the sun but like I’m the whole goddamn universe.
loving him is the same thing as tossing the keys to my heart to a valet without a driver’s licence. He’ll drive me off a cliff.
Everything wonderful, everything magical, everything painful, everything beautiful and spectacular and wretched and defining that has happened to me happened with him. And I hate him for that.
And Parks is the kind of girl parents dream about their sons ending up with—she’s honey on toast personified, and they’re eating her up.
Nothing, and then everything. Everything bleeding out everywhere, dying right here on a bed of peonies with the love of my life on the other side of the room with a man who isn’t me, who’s actually fucking probably finally worthy of her and the bleeding out starts to feel too real.
