There’s nothing like the guilt you feel when there’s room in your heart to love evil.
Those are the hardest pieces of all to accept. The pieces of our puzzle That just don’t belong.
I’ve lost a lot in my long life. Yes, I’ve seen pain and I’ve seen strife. But I’ll never give up; I’ll never let go. Because I’ll always have my ray of hope.
Ridge: Better. I can’t hear my own farts, so sometimes I’ll forget that other people can hear them.
I suppose if a man lived through the ugliest side of love, he might never want to experience it again.
It’s the clear headedness behind her voice and the calm reasonable expression in her eyes that rips my heart right out of my chest. She turns to leave and all I can do is let her go. I just let her go.
After our next date, we’ll be spending most of our time making out, so we need to get all the questions out of the way now.
How can two good people both have such good intentions end up with feelings, derived from all the goodness, that are so incredibly bad?
Me: Don’t thank me, Sydney. You shouldn’t thank me, because I failed miserably at trying not to fall in love with you.
She doesn’t even tell me it’ll be okay when every single ounce of whatever was left inside my chest is propelled out of me the moment I realize that the very best part of me is dead.
There will be days that I don’t think we’ll know how to survive. But we will, because we have each other.
I imagine her rolling onto her back, welcoming me to create secrets with her that’ll never leave this room.
I send the picture in a message to Ian that says, “She’s gonna have all my babies.
I don’t want Sydney ever to feel like my second choice, when I know in my heart that she’s the right choice. The only choice.
If this thesis were a child, I’d put it up for adoption and not even think twice about it. If this thesis were a cute, fuzzy puppy, I’d drop it off in the middle of a busy intersection and speed away.
My attention is constantly homed in on her like I’m a compass and she’s my North.
One of her hands is slowly tracing up and down from my waist to my arm. The feel of her hands against my skin is something I never want to become a memory.
I may not be a role model, but at least I’m raising really smart children.
Sometimes not speaking says more than all the words in the world. Sometimes my silence is saying, I don’t know how to speak to you. I don’t know what you’re thinking. Talk to me. Tell me everything you’ve ever said. All the words. Starting form the very first one.
But if you’re asking who I need more? Who I want to be with more? Who my heart craves more? My heart decided that for me a long time ago, Sydney.