Because I know if I sit down and start to write out how it feels…. it all becomes too real… the pain becomes too much. But that’s the weird part because I feel so empty, like there no longer is a heart living where there used to be one, so why am I feeling pain?
He said he loved more than any other women he’s ever loved and I had a black eye to prove it.
Love is not for thrill-seekers, dreamers, or children with short attention spans. And you, son, fit into all three of those categories.
Close your eyes, real tight, and then count to three hundred. That’s all you have to do. You just count to three hundred, and when you open your eyes, five minutes will have passed. And even if it hurts or things are shitty or you don’t know what to do, you just made it through five whole minutes. And when it feels like you can’t go on, you just close your eyes and do it again. That’s all you need. Just five minutes at a time.
Let go of all your hurts and be healed.
The brain is an incredible multitasker. At the same time that it’s piercing itself with superheated needles of anguish, it’s ruthlessly making plans, contingencies, plotting out a future, giving zero fucks whether it’ll ever see it. On the day I die, it’ll be calculating what to have for dinner as it bombards itself with pain signals from my amputated legs or my clocked-out heart.
Every kind of love, it seems, is the only one. It doesn’t happen twice. And I never expected that you could have a broken heart and love with it too, so much that it doesn’t seem broken at all.
…everything is gone except traces of you inside me – and the years like the wind are sweeping those away …
I’d have to prove to everyone, including Ellia, that I was more than some guy she used to know, that what we shared had and still mattered. She may have forgotten the promise we made on the beach, but I hadn’t, and it was up to me to backup those words with action. Memories and ghosts were for the dead. Living things moved, and I was never one to stand still.” ~Liam