It’s Sunday morning. Your head is probably still spinning from last night.
One day, you’ll be too tired to travel around the world. Do it now.
When you decide to love again, each step is taken with premeditated caution. You no longer tread lightly. You no longer assume that this love will be different, because time has taught you otherwise so unmercifully.
She’ll say that she’s never allowed to have any fun. She’ll say that she’s always too protected, too sheltered.
Everyone undergoes a different path in life. Some are ready to be moms at nineteen, or twenty-five, or thirty-seven.
Each level of love will vary. Some will be true, everlasting. Some will be found in the most innocent forms. Some will destroy you.
The Wrong Guy loves you for what you can provide to him. Whether it’s money, or sex, or confidence, he likes what you can do for him. You’re his ego boost.
We began talking about life. You told me about your childhood, and I starred at you with awe as your poured your soul to me.