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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Sometimes when you hate someone enough, you can’t help but lie awake in bed at night, wondering what life would be like if that person were dead.
I wonder what kind of upbringing is worse for a human. The kind where you’re sheltered and loved to the point that you aren’t aware of how cruel the world can be until it’s too late to acquire the necessary coping skills, or the kind of household I grew up in. The ugliest version of a family, where coping is the only thing you learn.
It’s weird how your whole life can completely change in the hours between waking up and going to bed.
Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than kindness. Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as the damage does. The damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off. It stays there forever, and I feel like people can see all my damage just by looking at me.
Damaged people recognize other damaged people. It’s like a club you don’t want a membership to.
don’t know how everything inside of me can feel so loud while this part of the world is still asleep.
“If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it’s time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?”
Maybe we both grew heart bones.”
Maybe we did grow heart bones. But what if the only way of knowing you grew a heart bone is by feeling the agony caused by the break?
What version of myself can I be while I’m here?
When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.
