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nothing obliterates the outside world like surrendering all senses to the depths of a kiss.
A great song is like catnip, a few notes can wind my insides up like a top, and always leaves me wanting more.
“The most important time to listen is when words are missing, that’s when hearts cry out the loudest.”
Pain has an inexplicable way of making that possible, a remarkable way of making sure you don’t forget it and give it recognition even when you don’t want to.
“Every kiss eventually ends. The memory of them doesn’t. I’ll still feel that one when I’m ninety,”
When people learn from their mistakes it matures them; when they don’t, they stagnate.
I’m struck breathless by her—her openness, her honesty, her beauty, and most of all, her unabashed willingness to feel intensely and not care if anyone’s watching.
“I think I lent my heart to boys who didn’t know how to treat it or me.”
“You deserve all of it,”
this. “Everyone cares about someone, some of us are just shit at showing it.”
For the most part her tears are silent, but every so often there’s an inhalation of air so deep it’s soul-splintering.
“Some people aren’t worth fighting for, Toby. You’re not one of them. There are people we meet in this life who anchor us. They reassure us with their presence. They bring us comfort simply by being. They love by osmosis, radiating it out and diffusing it in effortlessly. Quietly, they walk among us, treading lightly but providing stability and influence because it’s second nature. The thing that’s so special about these people is that they don’t even know they’re doing it.”
The longer I stare, the more the glamour of the makeover wilts. My vision blurs and memories emerge, drifting out from beneath the front door and drafty windows. They surround me—specters with swelling mass, hardened weight, and blame so sharp I would swear it’s piercing my skin. They’re crowding me, smothering. The sensation of claustrophobia peaking. My lungs constrict. It’s hard to breathe.
