They say that to cry is a sign of strength, but to me crying shows everyone around you that you are not strong enough to get through the rough times. To me it shows that you cannot control yourself, that your emotions have gotten the better of you. How could falling to your knees in a sobbing mess possibly be a sign of strength? I say stand up tall and hold your head high. Don’t you ever let them see you cry. Because it’s a sign of weakness and vulnerability, and I can’t stand for it. You may be vulnerable right now but you sure as hell aren’t weak.

Congratulations, you won. I have finally stopped trying. You are out of my life. Probably forever. But just remember, that when you realize that you lost your best friend, it was your fault. Don’t you dare try and pin this on me. I have done my fair share of messing up, but this one, it’s not my fault whatsoever.

I know you’re just a rag doll now, sewn together with memories that we might have had. I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream. And don’t worry, I know I don’t know you, anymore.

I want people to feel an immediate happiness and cheerfulness when they are around me; to make a difference in someone’s life. I want to make an impression in someone’s life, so that even though I may be delicate and fragile, my footprints are permanent within the hearts of the ones I’ve touched.

There’s that one moment, the moment when you’ve figured out how much you’ve really let go, and how much you’ve grown. It’s that moment when you can’t look back, yet you can’t seem to look too far into the future. It’s that moment when you realize that you’re living for yourself and no one else.

So I looked back on us today. I don’t know why I missed you, why I wanted you back. Because from where I stand, no one was having fun. Sure, at the beginning we were kids rushing into things we had no idea what about, but slowly, instead of trusting you more, I trusted you less. I spent hours, days, even months of our relationship worrying about who you might leave me for because there was always someone better than me. I spent a year trying to be the perfect girlfriend until I couldn’t anymore. My body tried to tell me it had to stop. Our relationship was literally making me sick. But now I’m free, and I’m sorry. I did love you, but I had to get out. It was like poison slowly seeping through my body, infecting every possible organ, finally getting to my brain, telling me that this was it. This was the end. We weren’t having fun anymore, and that’s what you wanted right? I knew it was over before you said it, sweetheart. And I thought you broke my heart, but you merely made it stronger, made it resilient. Because you don’t deserve me or my love. Goodbye my first love. Thank you for being such a fabulous waste of time.

It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs or great stories it led up to, it would always have the last word.

There it goes again. That heavy feeling in your chest when you don’t feel any desire to speak or move. All you want to do is close your eyes and sleep, because the process of being broken is incredibly exhausting. You attempt your best to make your days fulfilling, but no matter how hard you try you can’t seem to connect to anyone or anything.

He reached for her hand. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was almost in a whisper. She could feel the tears again, and she fought them back. “But you don’t want to keep me either, do you?” To that, he had no response.

When we’re alone you adore me, but only when we’re alone.

Please don’t make me wait, just because you know I will.

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy.

I tried so hard. You know that right? I tried harder than you could ever imagine, and now here I am, trying my best just to forget everything. Every piece of you, the way you smell, the feel of your skin. Too bad it was always so soft. I can still feel you. I think I always will.

The best moments in reading are when you come across something–a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things that– that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dead. It’s as if a hand has come out and taken yours.

I hate that time before you go to sleep at night because that’s when all the thoughts you’ve been trying to avoid start to linger in your mind.

The bad guy is not wearing a black cape and he’s not easy to spot;
he’s really funny, and he makes you laugh, and he has perfect hair.

You don’t drown by falling in water; you drown by staying there.

Even though we weren’t in love, I miss that boy more than anyone will ever understand.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

This is your choice. It’s black and white. Not a shade of gray, because when you love someone there’s no such thing as halfway.

What they say is, “life goes on” and that is mostly true. The mail is delivered, and the Christmas lights go up and down from the houses, and the ladders get put away, and you open yet another box of cereal. In time, the volume of my feelings would be turned down in gentle increments to near quiet, and yet the record would still spin, always spin.

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