My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

Belonging. Togetherness. These words are as complicated and confusing as the word love. It’s probably all the same thing. Or it would be if we let it be. I can only guess from observation.

Without you I wouldn't have been able to contain the hate. I would have used it against myself. You're the one who helped me control it. My mind spun out to other things. But it always came back to you.

Maybe your history just repeats and repeats until it batters you enough to snap the seams that hold you together

Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.

There has to be a moment at the beginning when you wonder whether you’re in love with the person or in love with the feeling of love itself.

Self-esteem can be so exhausting. I want to cut my hair, change my clothes, erase the pimple from the near-tip of my nose, and strengthen my upper-arm definition, all in the next hour.