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“Don’t be embarrassed of your emotions. You don’t have to hide them from me. How you feel is how you feel, and I totally get it. But you need to understand one thing: the people still here – the people that care about you – they feel lucky that you’re alive. That’s why they expect you to feel it, too.”
Love stories are like religion; people need something to believe in, something to cling to, even if they never actually find out whether it exists.
“Please. Cinderella loses a shoe and it leads her perfect guy right to her. In real life, if a girl loses her shoe at midnight it just means she’s drunk.”
All I wanted was for everything to go back to the way it used to be. It’s like an eternal feeling of wanting to go home, but never actually getting there. I’m stuck searching for that sense of comfort, not knowing if I’ll ever feel it again.
Guilt is as strong an addiction as any; she forces your mind to become her handmaiden, creating thoughts and emotions that validate and perpetuate her.
“We were supposed to get sushi. But I got kissed instead.”
I came here to tell you what an asshole you have been to me. You push me away, then you pull me back in. You think your sarcasm covers up your feelings, but it doesn’t. You wear your heart on your sleeve and your emotions on your face. I know who you are, and despite all of that, I am standing here madly in love with you. I just wish you could admit that you love me back.”
“I am in a healthy sexual relationship. My vagina is extremely happy, thank you very much.” “Good. I’m glad for you and your vagina.” I stood and walked to my room to get dressed. “My vagina feels sad for your vagina,” she called down the hallway. “My vagina just gave your vagina the finger,” I yelled back.
