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If you hurt someone enough, they acclimatize to pain, but just like a wound, if you don’t seal it, you’ll bleed out.
“Because your demons whispered all your secrets into my ear the day you dragged me through your hell, and let me tell you something, you are a monster, Nate. And a liar.”
“You think you have the power, but last I checked, I’m the one with the pussy.”
Pain doesn’t define us, it shapes us. We come into this world as newborns, a fresh start. New life, a crisp soul. Then life happens, and every single choice you make has an implication. Every scar has a story, or it doesn’t and it’s just a scar, but whether or not it has a story, it’s still a scar, and that scar doesn’t define us, so why should pain?
“Nightmares make you appreciate the good. They remind you that your life could be worse,”
“Because knowing you’re okay is worth the pain that having you in my arms causes.”
“Own it like the queen that you are.”
“Wear that dress and own your crown.”
“You’re not crazy, little terror. You’re human. You reached for something that you knew would help you. Some take drugs, alcohol, sex.” He grins, kicking Nate. “You reached for love. That doesn’t make you crazy. That makes you human.”
Because sometimes you do need someone in order to heal. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a weakness to need another human. It’s humanity,
“Until the part that I had to break her open and watch her heart snap in front of my very eyes, over another man, nonetheless.”
I release a little as she leans over and grabs it before taking her spot back on my lap. Where the fuck she belongs. This queen doesn’t need a throne, she just needs my dick to sit on.
“We’re all fucking crazy, Tillie, but it’s who we stay sane for that matters. You need to for you. Love is just an anchor. It can either be the reason you drown or the reason you float. You can’t ride on that to keep you sane.”
You stay sane for yourself, because you can’t give people that kind of power. You have to make it—for you.”
We know each other’s darkest, dirtiest secrets, and power comes with trust when that person knows the dark corners of your dusty soul.
“Because even Lucifer was once an Angel.”
and I can feel the toxicity seep through my pores and plant its seeds deep in my bones. The only question is, will I water them, or let them die?
I am completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with him.
I trust him with every ounce of my being, which is precisely the problem.
Grief can bring out the ugly in some people. Your world shifts, and it takes a part of you with it, and sometimes, you fall between the cracks of where it used to be.
“I can’t continue to love someone who isn’t manufactured to love back. I can’t fucking compete with other girls when it comes to your affection, and I can’t fucking handle not having all of you!”
“You’re not a woman who can be owned. I knew that a long time ago. You may not belong to me, but you belong with me. And there ain’t shit you can do about it.”
“Secrets like this is why people die. Why they run away and why love is burned.”
