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“If reality becomes unbearable, close your eyes. We were made with an imagination.”
Brief silence wrapped a noose around my neck, and I wondered if this was how the rest of my life would be—silently suffocating in the memory of him.
“The truth is, I’m not normal. Is that too much for you to handle?” —Oliver Masters
“Because love is constant. When you love someone, you can be angry with them, you can hate them, you can be upset or disappointed in them, but you never stop loving them because love endures all other emotions.”
“The cruel irony is you are my forever but not my right now.” —Oliver Masters
he silenced the world with his voice, but he was able to stop time with his silence, and every part of me hung on like a last breath.
“The number of people who love you doesn’t determine your worth. Remember that.”
Breathing turned into a song, our ultimate playlist in our sacred moments such as this. But even silence told stories, wants, needs, and we always shared the same melody.
Looks like ‘sorry’ didn’t do shit. That’s me,”—I pointed to the pieces— “that’s my fucking heart, and your apology isn’t going to mend or heal your mistakes anymore. Your ‘sorry’ doesn’t piece back what you’ve broken. And this time, it was us you broke. For good.”
The worst part of caring too much, of feeling too much, of having too much to give, was that eventually you drain from being too much for too long.
“My first mistake was bringing flowers to a gun show.” —Oliver Masters
That’s the thing about love. Once it touched you, it didn’t go away. It was laced in every breath. It was embedded in your skin. It seeped deep into your soul and lived forever, and you spent your entire life feeding that single heavenly feeling afraid it would leave at some point.
But love never leaves you. It only hides behind every temporary emotion until you deserve to be embraced by it again.
“You’re not broken, only bent to perfection.” —Oliver Masters
Because just as much as she was all-consuming, she was imperfect and honest—the representation of love. Consuming. Imperfect. Honest.
Doctors saw imperfections, a mental illness, but all I saw was strength: a powerful mind and the ability to protect the rest of herself from it when needed.
Finding someone who accepted and understood you entirely was rare, and forcing the ones you love, to sever those kinds of relationships, only hurt your own.
If I were honest with myself, she never belonged to me. She belonged to this world, and the only way to truly love her was to love her unselfishly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have loved her at all.
When it comes to you, time is not something I want to waste.”
Walking away made me stronger.
She dances for no one and howls with the wolves. A moon child with the spirit of a mood ring. She’s my all-time love.” —Oliver Masters
“If you believe in nothing, then that is what you live for. And living for nothing is a waste, wouldn’t you say?”
