You don’t love someone because they’re perfect. You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.
Maybe who we are isn’t so much about what we do, but rather what we’re capable of when we least expect it.
… the year I realized love doesn’t follow the rules, the year I understood nothing is worth having so much as something unattainable.
Actually, I’m probably the only person who’s qualified to let you know exactly what a jerk you are. But that’s okay right? Because if everyone thinks you’re a jerk, no one will bother getting too close.
I’m lonely. Why do you think I had to learn to act so independent? I also get mad too quickly, and I hog the covers, and my second toe is longer than my big one. My hair has it’s own zip code. Plus, I get certifiably crazy when I’ve got PMS. You don’t love someone because they’re perfect. You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.
It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you.
Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut.