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The truth is we only have control over a finite number of things in life. The rest is a fucking crap shoot.
And if I’ve figured out anything in this Shakespearean tragedy of a life, it’s that life is just moments all strung together like multicolor Christmas lights.
“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”