He’s going to fuck up. You’re going to fuck up. That’s the way relationships work.
Find someone who doesn’t think your close-up is full of flaws, find someone who thinks you’re picture-perfect.
Even when you have a boy’s love, there will be endless moments when you’re alone — alone with your thoughts, alone with your own darkness. He can’t be your hero. He can’t rescue you. Because he’s an outsider. And you can only be healed from within. You can only save yourself.
But until then, I refuse to believe my happiness is dependent on romantic relationships when the connections I have with life can give me so much more than what another human being can bring.
There is TRULY nothing sexier than a man who respects women. Like, truly respects them. A feminist male, if you will.
In my eyes, you will always be mine even in another world, another place and another time. You will always be my handsome Prince who sings a song in Russian; who speaks Armenian; who jokes in Arabic and who loves to drink Arak.
Not everyone needs to know the deepest parts of you. Some people just need a small piece of you.
The truth is the less you want people the more they want you back, the more they crave your attention because the one who cares less is always the one with the most control.
For whatever reason a segment of our society still believes that 30 and 40-something year old women, single and no kids, is the biggest slipup of your adult life. I empathize because I am one of those women.
People put being in a relationship on a pedestal. People act like if you are single that there must be something wrong with you, that you must not be enough, that you are unlovable, but all of that is bullshit.