It's almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.

I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.

I still felt fondness for her - fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia.

Ignorance is not bliss. Bliss is knowing the full meaning of what you have been given.

You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned.

I can see that the sadness has returned. And it's not a beautiful sadness- beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.

It is an awful thing to be betrayed by your body. And it’s lonely, because you feel you can’t talk about it.