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A confession to another person motivated solely by a selfish desire to make oneself feel better is, in itself, a sin.”
“Unless you feel the need to, you know, unburden yourself or something. I hear confessions can be quite cathartic.” “No, thanks. And I think that’s bullshit, by the way.” “What is?” “That confessions are cathartic. I think it’s the coward’s way out.”
“You are a lion. You are a tiger. You were given this life because you’re strong enough to live it. Now get out there and let them hear your motherfucking roar!” Then I stumble off in search of a drink because, let’s face it, self-affirmations can only get you so far.
“Love isn’t something you choose, Angelface. It chooses you. And even if it only lasts a little while, it’s worth it. Even if it ends in flames, it’s worth it. Even if it cuts out your heart and leaves you a bruised, bloody mess, it’s worth it.” My
“Because it’s love. Love is the only thing that really matters in this life. Love is everything.”
He groans again, hiding his face in my neck, fighting his instinct to tear off my clothes and bury himself in my body. I feel how hard he’s fighting himself, but we need to be done with this. We’re past this now. I turn my face to his ear.
It’s as if my words are a key that unlocks the cage to the dark, animal part of him. An animal I’ve seen glimpses of, prowling around me, growling and sniffing, hackles raised as I run my fingers through its fur. But now the animal is unleashed. It pounces in all its full, bristling fury, and devours me.
“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
