I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was to feel so much grief.
Here’s something else, something important: Love is not transactional. It is not a bank account, you don’t always get what you put in. Sometimes you put in so much and get very little return on your investment, at least that you can see right away.
It feels strange to have spent much time wishing for something, for someone and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.
You can’t put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren’t.
To belong to someone – I didn’t know it, but now that I think about, it seems like that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To really be somebody’s, and to have them be mine.
How was I supposed to know what’s real and what’s not? It feels like I’m the only one who doesn’t know the difference.
I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t know better and doesn’t want to-it’s dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.
If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.
People come in and out of your life. For a time they are your world; they are everything. And then one day they’re not. There’s no telling how long you will have them near.
That’s when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn’t the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn’t enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them you cared. And he just didn’t. Not enough.
There’s a Korean word my grandma taught me. It’s called jung. It’s the connection between two people that can’t be severed, even when love turns to hate. You still have those old feelings for them; you can’t ever completely shake them loose of you; you will always have tenderness in your heart for them.
Never say no when you really want to say yes.
I know now that I don’t want to love or be loved in half measures. I want it all, and to have it all, you have to risk it all.
When you lose someone and it still hurts, that’s when you know the love was real.
So much of love is chance. There’s something scary and wonderful about that.
Sometimes I like you so much I can’t stand it. It fills up inside me, all the way to the brim, and I feel like I could overflow. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I’m going to see you again. And then, when you look at me the way you do, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
So I take Peter’s hand; I put it on my heart. I tell him, “You have to take good care of this, because it’s yours.
Things feel like they’ll be forever, but they aren’t. Love can go away, or people can, without even meaning to. Nothing is guaranteed.
I guess that’s part of growing up, too – saying goodbye to the things you used to love.
Margot would say she belongs to herself. Kitty would say she belongs to no one. And I guess I would say I belong to my sisters and my dad, but that won’t always be true. To belong to someone – I didn’t know it, but now that I think about, it seems like that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To really be somebody’s, and to have them be mine.