You stop for a moment and tell yourself “This is real, and this is actually what I want.” You feel silly because you’re young. You’re reckless, but you’re brave.
Break ups suck because A) the pain of losing someone is the worst and quite frankly B) the idea of having to start all over again is EXHAUSTING.
You want someone to snuggle with at night. But the second they start humping your leg, you can kick them off the bed.
One day, someone knocks at your door, introduces his name, and then you’ll wake-up surprised with the reality that you are no longer strangers anymore.
I absolutely loved being single. I saw my life as mine and only mine. Any decision I made was all mine to make.
I don’t believe in The One.
Some people fondly remember the “honeymoon phase” of their relationships, secretly longing to go back to when everything seemed perfect. Not me.
There are literally billions of people living on this planet, so why is it so difficult to find one person to put up with us?
When you’re young you think love is easy, that your expression of this complex and overwhelming feeling will be found often and shared frequently. What you learn when you’re older is that love is rarely black and white. People can love you in the “I’m not in love with you” kind-of-way, they can be on the verge of loving you, or the worst: they can express to you that they only think they love you.
I loved you deeply and profoundly and without any regard to the consequence.