My mother has always had an ability to deliver an entire lecture with a single glance. I get the glance.
She left someone she loved so that her daughters would never think that kind of relationship was okay. She wasn’t rescued by another man – a knight in shining armor. She took the initiative to leave my father on her own, knowing she was about to embark on a completely different kind of struggle with added stress as a single mother.
As much as I want to stay here and allow this to begin between us, there’s something I want from you even more than that. I want you to be with me in the end, and I know that can’t happen if I keep trying to rush our beginning. I know exactly why you were hesitant to let me in last night: you aren’t ready yet. Maybe I’m not, either. You’ve always said you wanted time to yourself, and the last thing I want is to start a relationship with you.
And that’s why I stay at home and write. I think the idea of me is better than the reality of me.
Sometimes when we’re alone, he looks at me in a way that makes me feel empty when he looks away.
There’s a subtle change, and it makes him feel good. I don’t know why, but it seems as if there isn’t a lot in his life that makes him feel good, so I like that this does.
That’s how it is with us. You’re solid, I’m liquid. You part the waters, I’m your wake.
I find that comforting – that being alone with me in the room still feels like being alone to him.
I think about all the people I wish could die instead of you.
I like making him smile. It doesn’t take much to make the corners of his mouth twitch, but to actually get his lips to curve all the way up, I have to be extra sassy.
Well I’ve been locking myself up in my house for some time now Reading and writing and reading and thinking and searching for reasons and missing the seasons The Autumn, the Spring, the Summer, the snow.
I’m really happy you’re doing this,” she says. “But I’m going to warn you, I might miss you a lot and I might sound sad when you call, but don’t get homesick. I’ll be fine. I promise. I’m sad that I won’t get to see you as often, but I’m even happier that you’re taking this step. And I promise that’s all I’m going to say about it. I love you and I’m proud of you.
I love that you love me so much, it sometimes makes you cry. And I love that the idea of us having a baby makes you cry. I love how full of love you are, Quinn.
Losing your virginity doesn’t make you more of a woman than a virgin. It just means your hymen is broken. Big whoop.
I could go on and on about all the things I miss about you to the point that I start to feel sorry for myself again. But I’ve learned over the past year what it really means to be able to miss someone. In order to miss someone, that means you were privileged enough to have them in your life to begin with.
I didn’t think God was capable of making someone go through something so ugly.
My grandmother looks at me and shakes her head. “He got one of those intelligent phones. Now he’s trying to twit the president.” “Smart phones,” I correct her. “And it’s tweet, not twit.” “He follows me,” my grandfather says defensively. “I’m not kidding, he really does!
Tuqburni is used to describe the all-encompassing feeling of not being able to live without someone. Which is why the literal translation is, ‘You bury me.
Sometimes it seems easier to just keep running in the same familiar circles, rather than facing the fear of jumping and possibly not landing on your feet.
I’ve believed in you since the moment I met you. I believe in myself now that I’ve finally left you.