Maybe Someday (Maybe, #1)

by Colleen Hoover

Is life really that black-and-white, though? Can a simple right or wrong define my situation?

We’re just two completely confused souls, scared of a much unwanted yet crucial good-bye.

His memory is the last place I want to be. I would give anything to always be in his present.

I’m crying tears over the death of something that never even had the chance to live. The death of us.

How could I do to her what was done to me, knowing it’s the worst feeling in the world?

Twenty-four years I’ve lived without ever experiencing this type of hatred. It’s the type of hatred that completely overwhelms the conscience. It’s the type of hatred that excuses otherwise inexcusable actions. It’s the type of hatred that can be felt in every facet of the body and in every inch of the soul. I’ve never known it until this moment. I’ve never hated anything or anyone with as much intensity as I hate myself right now.

People can’t control matters of the heart, Warren. They can only control their actions,

He failed to protect her from the harsh truth that people don’t get to choose who they fall in love with. They only get to choose who they stay in love with.”

“I can’t tell her good-bye when I don’t really want her to leave.”

Sometimes in life, we need a few bad days in order to keep the good ones in perspective.”

It shouldn’t be possible for the heart to love more than one person at once.

I’m not saying you don’t love me for me, because I know you do. I just think you love me the wrong way.”

I need someone who is willing to watch me brave the ocean and then dare me not to drown. But you wouldn’t be able to let me near the ocean.

I feel as if she doesn’t even need a hero. Why would she? She has someone so much stronger than I’ll ever be for her. She has herself.

We try so hard to hide everything we’re really feeling from those who probably need to know our true feelings the most. People try to bottle up their emotions, as if it’s somehow wrong to have natural reactions to life.

There are so many things I could and should and need to do, but none of them is what I want to do.

I think we were more in love with the idea of us, rather than with the actual us.

“It’s you,” he says aloud. “My heart… wants you.”

I’ve learned that the heart can’t be told when and who and how it should love. The heart does whatever the hell it wants to do. The only thing we can control is whether we give our lives and our minds the chance to catch up to our hearts.

There are only twenty-six letters in the English alphabet. You would think there would only be so much you could do with twenty-six letters. You would think there were only so many ways those letters could make you feel when mixed up and shoved together to make words.

I feel like my maybe someday just became my right now.

I plan on loving her every way I can possibly love her.

He makes me feel more beautiful. More important. More loved. More needed. I feel more everything,

As long as he’s a part of it, I’ll never live a life of mediocrity. My life with Ridge will be nothing short of remarkable.

I love her. Everything about her. I love that she’s never judged me. I love that she understands me. I love that despite everything I’ve put her heart through, she’s done nothing but support my decisions, no matter how much they destroyed her at the time. I love her honesty. I love her selflessness. Most of all, I love that I’m the one who gets to love all these things about her.