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Women usually stared at me for one of two reasons: they wanted me in them (sexually). Or they wanted me in them (clinically). Either way, I wasn’t interested.
“I am sure I want to not-tear your hymen and get sued, yes,”
realized, with depressing clarity, that she wasn’t the venom at all. She was the antidote. But the quantities were all off.
Suicide is a war of two fears—fear of death and fear of the thing that pushes you toward it. The stronger side always wins.
“Maybe not, but you learned to live with the grief.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to unravel you.”
think that’s what we’re suffering from. The side effects.” “Of?” “Of love. Grief is a side effect of love. It lasts as long as the love lasts. You get used to the pain until you’re reminded it’s there. That’s how it always works. What you need is a distraction.” “What I need is a cure.”
“Pain is growth. Fear is risk. You can’t be happy if you’re not growing and taking risks.”
I think true love is an uncontrollable habit, like breathing.
Here’s the thing about disappointment. It means you expected something. My bad. Lesson learned. Mistake, never to be repeated again.
“Is being an asshole hereditary?”
Love is expensive. Its currency is grief.
You are breathing, and it is beautiful, and I am so grateful for that.”
“It is a privilege to have parting gifts from someone you love. For there to be something to latch onto each time you miss him.
“There are two types of love—easy and tough. Easy love is just like breathing. Anyone can do it. But tough love? It hurts way more to give it than it does to receive it.”
But he’s never received as much love as he’s given. Unconditionally. Without expecting a damn thing in return. One day, it’ll happen, and he won’t know how to react.
It didn’t help my case that I looked like I’d spent a decade on Mötley Crüe’s tour bus.
