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Kindle Notes & Highlights
My favorite books, love songs, movies, the ones that resonated with me, have kept me grieving long after I turned the last page, the notes faded out, or the credits rolled.
Most consider knowing all-consuming love a blessing, but I consider it a curse. A curse I’ll never be able to lift. I’ll never know love again as I did here all those years ago. And I don’t want to. I can’t. I’m still sick with it.
The only love I’ve ever known or craved is the kind that keeps me sick, sick with longing, sick with lust, sick with need, sick with grief. The distorted kind that leaves scars and jaded hearts.
Even though I vowed to be different from my mother in the way I live my life, we have the same disease. We crave the all-consuming, soul-stealing, drama-filled romances that are destined to end badly. I inherited my heart from her, and it’s relentless.
My greatest hope is to be in all-consuming love. My biggest fear is to be in all-consuming love.
