Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’ll find an edge to cut you.
I write because you exist.
I love her. She breaks my heart again and again, but I love her.
I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.
I want you and I don’t want to be a luxury. I want you to need me. I want you to not be able to concentrate because you’re thinking about me. I want you to reach for your phone because you thought of something you have to share with me. I want you to not even be able to breathe at the thought of never seeing me again, because that’s how I feel about you.
Shannon Stacey, All He Ever Needed
That’s what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you’re not so lovable.
I now know what I want: I want to remain standing still in the sea.
Clarice Lispector, from “An Apprenticeship" (University of Texas Press, 1986)
It’s a lot easier to be angry at someone than it is to tell them you’re hurt.