I guess forgiveness, like happiness, isnโt a final destination. You donโt one day get there and get to stay.
Hurt is a weapon. Better weapon than most because it doesn't look like one.
It's hard to see clearly when your eyes are squinched tight out of fear.
So I put up with bad behavior in the name of loving the way I thought you were supposed to love.
Blessed booksโtheyโre a place to be alone, and no one else can come in.
Maybe I was being too picky. Maybe I didn't want to be close to anyone. Maybe I'd just be the type who couldn't feel love all the way or something. I couldn't tell what was wrong, but what was wrong was that it just wasn't right.