I’m as nowhere as I can be, Could you add some somewhere to me?
The thing about dancing,” he says, folding his arms across his chest, “is that no matter how good it feels when you’re doing it, it’s always extremely awkward when it’s over.
Disappointed, yes. Annoyed, yes. But I’m not really mad.
We’re practically kissing again.
I can’t see anything.
I find myself stuck at a red light on an empty street. Literally and figuratively.
I’m fair skinned, and anytime I get nervous or worked up or embarrassed, my skin tells on me, erupting in angry red splotches.
Great. I’m crying now. I’m a purseless, crying, violent, homeless girl. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I think I might also be heartbroken.
He doesn’t make your heart feel like this, Auburn. He doesn’t make it so crazy that it tries to beat through the walls of your chest.
It doesn’t have to be this way, Charlie. You’re allowed to love me, despite what your father says. You’re allowed to be happy. What you can’t allow is for negativity to choke you until we no longer breathe the same air.
Our maybe someday just became our absolutely forever.
Sono stanca di dover rinunciare alle uniche cose che voglio.
I don’t even try to offer him reassuring words. Sometimes situations don’t have a positive side. They just have a whole lot of sad sides.
I’m content with the direction in which my life is headed, and I know if I obsess over the past, that obsession will only serve to anchor me in a place I am more than ready to move on from.
Because it’s not muscles that make men strong. Secret do. The more secret you keep, the stronger you are on the inside.
I don’t even know why I’m crying. Maybe it’s because, until this moment, I had no idea what it felt like to be valued. What it felt like to be respected. Until this moment, I had no idea what it felt like to be cared for.
But just because we don’t speak doesn’t mean I don’t feel it every time he looks at me.
Too bad Grayson isn’t.
I’ve lived here less than a week and I can already tell you live in your own version of reality.
People on the outside of situations like these often wonder why the woman go back to the abuser. I read once that 85 percent of woman return to abuse situations. That was before I realise I was in one, and when I heard the stadistic, I thought it was because the women were stupid. I thought these things about my mother more than once.