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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The art of letting go and moving on is an acquired taste one only knows after they know nothing else for long enough. The first step is forced, and every step after is felt.
I was holding on to you. I was holding on to us. And it was killing me.
One can only dig their own grave for so long. Eventually you hit bottom and decide whether you want to get in now or later.
To sum it all up, he taught me two things: I am still not good enough, and I am too good for him.
He’s married now, to a beautiful girl with blue eyes and everything he never saw in me.
It’s so much easier being alone. I know the ways I can hurt me.
There are only so many ways you can tell someone you love them until it finally sinks in that they just don’t want to hear it.
I am window shopping in the faces of men, looking for something resembling love and I do not see it anywhere. What a tragedy.

