Love isn’t logical, or even our choice. Love chooses us. Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.
In what twisted universe would a girl who’s just been dumped still want to be friends with the boy who dumped her?
Maybe the package comes in a different shape than we originally thought it would.
But the thought of moving on from something I never had is depressing.
I want deeper connections with the people around me. I need to reach out more. Because not everyone leaves. Sometimes if you reach out, the person you’re trying to reach will be right there waiting.
All I know is, if we don’t eat soon I’m going to chew off a limb. And I can’t guarentee it’ll be mine.
She’s not going to let go until she sees for herself that there’s nothing left to hold on to.
That’s the cool thing about having a best friend. They know what your pain feels like already, so you don’t have to explain it.
Who remembers everything about somebody?
I thought following a straight road would lead me right to my destination. Like the road would just take me there because I was following all the rules. And if the road curved, I couldn’t be sure about where I was going. But look where it got me. Maybe it’s time for a detour.
And yeah, it got better. My stomach eventually went back to normal. I didn’t cry every day. But my heart. My heart will always be broken.
The rain fluctuates between drizzle and torrential. It messes with your mind. It makes you think things will always be like this, never getting better, always letting you down right when you though the worst was over.
Maybe there is no one perfect person and anyone you end up with will eventually make you think there’s someone better out there.
But maybe those things are like background noise if you’re from here. Maybe you have to experience this as a whole new place to appreciate it like I do.
It’s interesting how something that comes so easily to one person can be so impossible for someone else.
Apparently, it used to be extremely common for families to have two parents. They stayed together because that’s what all the other parents did. Now there are so many options, so many different ways to be a family. So many ways to rip a family apart.
Things don’t get better just because you want them to.
You can never completely know anyone, no matter how well you think you do. There will always be some truth about them you don’t ever get to know.
I’m not sure if our friendship is strong enough to survive into next year when we’re away at college. But. We know each other in a way that no one else can. We share a history that makes us permanently connected. So I have to hope for us. All I can do is hope.
You can’t ever know the real anybody unless you’re friends with them. And sometimes not even then.