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intimacy requires the repeated experience of being responded to
“About love. About how we often mistake love for fireworks—for drama and dysfunction. But real love is very quiet, very still. It’s boring, if seen from the perspective of high drama. Love is deep and calm—and constant.
How would you feel? The person you love most in the world has condemned you to die, through their own cowardice. That’s quite a betrayal.”
Trust, once lost, is hard to recover.”
Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps some of us are simply born evil, and despite our best efforts we remain that way.
