You and Me on Vacation

by Emily Henry

You asked me who I was, and—it was like the answer came out of nowhere. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t even exist before that. Like you invented me.”

It hurts to want it all, so many things that can’t coexist within the same life.

You can’t make anyone happy. I’m happy just because you exist, and that’s as much of my happiness as you have control over.”

Maybe things can always get better between people who want to do a good job loving each other. Maybe that’s all it takes.

Suddenly we’re not kids anymore, and it feels like it happened overnight, so fast I didn’t have time to notice, to let go of everything that used to matter so much, to see that the old wounds that once felt like gut-level lacerations have faded to small white scars, mixed in among the stretch marks and sunspots and little divots where time has grazed against my body.

You can’t outrun yourself. Not your history, not your fears, not the parts of yourself you’re worried are wrong.

I’ll never belong anywhere like I belong with you.