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“You know why they invited us, Miles. Because they’re both addicted to being universally loved. And they’re good at it. Good enough that they don’t realize you don’t get to be loved by people whose hearts you completely fucking destroy. They think they’re being the bigger people right now. But they don’t get to be the bigger people. For the next few years, they have to live with being the assholes.”
You can’t untell someone your secrets. You can’t unsay those delicate truths once you learn you can’t trust the person you handed them to.
“Things go smoother if you don’t let people get a rise out of you,” he says. “If you give them control over how you feel, they’ll always use it.”
“It’s not cynical. If you don’t give other people responsibility for your feelings, you can have a decent relationship with most of them.”
It’s more, controlling the expectations you have for certain people. If a person lets you down, it’s time to reconsider what you’re asking of them.
“Anything you need a helmet to do,” I say, “you probably simply shouldn’t do.”
“Or maybe,” he says, eyes crinkled against the sun, “everything worth doing comes with some risk.”
“Well, for one thing,” he says, “she’s twenty-three.” “Are you calling me old,” I ask. “I’m calling you thirty-three,” he says. “Rude,” I say.
You can’t force a person to show up, but you can learn a lesson when they don’t.
Trust people’s actions, not their words. Don’t love anyone who isn’t ready to love you back. Let go of the people who don’t hold on to you.
Don’t wait on anyone who’s in no rush to get to you.
Life isn’t a competition, and neither is love, but I’m still the loser.
He shakes his head. “It’s worth being scared. Trust me. You’re worth it.”