It’s as simple as that. Simple and complicated, as most true things are.
If you want to live within the definition of your own truth, you have to choose to go through the initially painful and ultimately comforting process of finding it.
I am starting to get tired of relying on words. They are full of meaning, yes, but they lack sensation. Writing to her is not the same as seeing her face as she listens. hearing back from her is not the same as hearing her voice. I have always been grateful for technology, but now it feels as if there's a little hitch of separation woven into any digital interaction. I want to be there, and this scares me. All my usual disconnected comforts are bieng taken away, now that I see the greater comfort of presence.
That word again. Happy. It’s a curse. The pursuit of happiness makes us deeply unhappy. It’s a trap.Before anything else happened, there was me in bed, thinking of who you used to be. I don’t want you to think I forgot.
It was one of those moments when you feel the future so much that it humbles the present.
Let’s make plans,” I ventured. And Sofia smiled and said, “No, let’s leave it to chance.
I am not dangerous. Only the stories are dangerous. Only the fictions we create, especially when they become expectations.
Fate has a strange way of making plans.
She has been hanging on to the hope of him for so long that she doesn't realize there isn't anything left to hope for.
What a strange phrase — –not seeing other people. As if it’s been constructed to be a lie. We see other people all the time. The question is what we do about it.
We do not start as dust. We do not end as dust. We make more than dust. That's all we ask of you. Make more than dust.
I think they have compatible silences.
You spend so much time, so much effort, trying to hold yourself together. And then everything falls apart anyway.
With some people ,the minute you start talking, it feels like you've known them for years. It only means that you were supposed to meet sooner. You're feeling all the time you should have known each other, but didn't. That time still counts. You can definitely feel it.
I'm not a very happy person," I told him."But sometimes I can trick myself into thinking I am.
He never wears a watch (his own rebellion against time, against watching).
Even though it was hard to see you, it was good to see you.
I measure the moment in the heartbeats I skip
When I am with you, there is nowhere else I'd rather be. And I am a person who always wants to be somewhere else.
Part of love is letting a person be who they want to be
There is the sudden. There is the eventual. And in between, there is the living.
His books are kept on freestanding shelves hung at different angles on a sea-green wall. They defy gravity, as good books should.
They defy gravity, as good books should.
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
...he hopes that maybe it'll make people a little less scared of two boys kissing than they were before, and a little more welcoming to the idea that all people are, in fact, born equal, no matter who they kiss or screw, no matter what dreams they have or love they give.
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