More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It’s so messed up that a man can be so interested in what’s going on in your head but he doesn’t give two shits about how you feel.
I know her perfectly. Better than she knows herself. She’s a tangled ball of self-doubt, foolish pride, dumb hope, brilliance, masochism, and blind affection. And I’m obsessed.
She’s as fragile as spun glass. She can run, and as weak as she is, she can take blow after blow. But her feelings—they’re so tender, so easily bruised. She allows herself to be crushed, over and over again.