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“I’m sorry,” he said over and over. He kept saying it like that would make everything okay. But I knew that nothing would ever be okay again.
What I hadn’t counted on was the injuries that left no scars. The broken parts that no doctor was able to fix.
Love is never weak.
If I could have crawled out of my own skin, and out of my head, I would have left them behind too.
I know this feeling.
Possessive or caring?
That’s exactly what he wanted—to protect her.
Awww so cute!
Teenage boys aren’t this self aware.
A 14 year old boy also wouldn’t know what a clit is, how to find it, or what to do with it.
Possessive much?
I got my period my freshman year too.
“Because, Lila... if a guy won’t give you his favorite hoodie, he’s not worth your time.”
Very true for high school.
Also ver possessive
I totally understand this logic. That you feel like you can’t do something because another thing that’s completely unrelated is happening.
WHERE???
Waiting for someone to die was the cruelest form of punishment.
Sometimes I thought I would follow this boy to the fiery pits of hell if he asked me to. And sometimes that scared me. I didn’t want him to have that kind of power over me. It was the reason I pushed back so hard, not wanting him to give an inch, knowing he’d take a yard.
“What happens when the stars fall, Jude?” “I’ll put them back in the sky for you,”
I wanted to go back to my carefree days when nothing scared me. I wanted to be reckless and daring again.
And that was the problem. He’d decided that I was his but he could kiss anyone he wanted. The hypocrisy incensed me and I steeled myself against his soft touch that made delicious shivers run up and down my spine.
all I wanted to do was take away her pain and make it my own. I wanted to fix this for her and it made me angry that I couldn’t.
Everything was dead and broken.
I missed him like a missing limb
I felt hollowed out and empty but I felt a little bit better.
Holding on for dear life, both arms wrapped around it tightly like it was my firstborn child and I couldn’t bear to part with something so precious to me.
They’re ina power struggle. Who will win?
Typical
If only everyone were this vulnerable and honest.
she told me to be brave with my heart. She said that love makes you vulnerable, but with the right person, it also makes you stronger.
Ugh.. the toxic masculinity
Because that’s what real men did. They fought and they bled and they locked down their emotions. They toughed it out and they never said die. Real men weren’t allowed to cry or complain or question the unfairness of life. Real men were always winners. To the victor go the spoils.
Was this why he wanted to enlist?
Once again, he’d come to my rescue and I hated that. This was something that I’d wanted to do for myself. Something I’d convinced myself I needed to do.
I was alone on the roof under a sky full of stars with only the bitter taste of regret and my salty tears for company.
He was going to hang on to his hurt and anger the same way I’d held on to my guilt and fear.
We hold onto these things because they feel comfortable; they’ve always been there with us. But letting them go? That means letting new emotions take their place.
He asked me what would make me feel stronger and I thought it was an odd question, but a good one.
What a good alternative to “What do you need”
Symbolic
Being brave meant being honest and owning up to the things you’d done to hurt people.
Oxymoron
Called it
Risky
“It’s only ever been you,” he said, his voice low and husky in the stillness of my quiet bedroom. “Only you, Rebel.”
But it was useless to think of what could have been.
We sealed them with a kiss that robbed the air from my lungs and made me wonder where he left off and I began.
It felt dangerous, loving someone the way I loved him. I knew how cruel life could be. The person you loved could be ripped away from you in the blink of an eye. But I did it anyway.
Dopamine
This was a taste of heaven and of hell all rolled into one.
It was an odd sensation to look at the man you loved but not recognize him.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, even though I knew he wasn’t. It was such a stupid question but I was at a loss. What could you say
I forced a smile. “Good to be here,” I lied. And it pissed me off that it wasn’t true. Why did I feel so fucking numb, like I was watching my life as if it was a movie, and I was so far removed from it that I wasn’t really living it?
And I thought that if we had this baby, it would be like having a piece of you. The better parts of both of us in one tiny human that we could hold in our arms and watch our baby grow bigger and stronger. And I feel so cheated and so angry.
