Don’t blame some innocent girl when the guilty party is the guy standing next to her.
The earliest memory I have is of the day you left. I was four.
The ideas I had about love were based on outdated fairy tales, but you showed me that a fairy tale can be whatever I want it to be.
You are worth fighting for, and the right person will continue to fight for you every single day.
At what point do we begin to take “no” seriously? The first time, when it’s just a kiss? When she’s pushing you away? When you realize you have to force her to stay still? Never?