Not You It's Me (Boston Love, #1)

by Julie Johnson

See, I have this theory that humans are just living, breathing, talking forms of art, each crafted with a different technique and carved out of different materials. Each beautiful in their own way.

“For the possibility of something truly wonderful. Because a life without hope, without love… that’s really no life at all.”

“Still, I was going to stay away from you, keep you out of all this shit, even if it killed me.” “Why?” “Because you aren’t built for deceit or lies or darkness. I’m shadow and you’re sunshine. You’re not like me. You’re just… different.” “Bad different?” “Different in the best way possible. My world — it’s monochrome. Black and white. But you…” His voice gets lower, huskier. “You’re painted in every shade on the palette. You’re screaming color. A fucking rainbow.”

“Life is a big, fat mess. There’s no order or reason to most of what’ll happen to you before you turn to dust and fade from memory, and there’s nothing you can do about that. All you can do is find someone who turns that abstract chaos into a work of art… and never let them go.”

“My only advice is, when you start to fall, don’t talk yourself out of it — the right man will be there at the bottom, to catch you. Take a risk on messy. Live fearlessly. Love recklessly. Most of all, just love.”