You love each other, yes, but it’s dying. It’s dying quietly, drowning in a festering discontent. Chipping away, moving forth; realizing your inherent desire to be alone. Your need to have nothing.
A love like coffee is longterm, but dependable. It’s the kind of love which forces us to burn the candle at both ends, passionate and productive in its codependency.
People see the happiness, creativity, and ambition — but not the darkness that drives it.
I challenge you to find a happily monogamous friend who doesn’t nurse their fair share of dating battle scars. It’s a romantic war zone out there, and we’re only able to settle down once we’ve lost a few figurative limbs.
I’ve always found the notion of a “broken heart” to be slightly misleading. For starters – and to point out the obvious – your heart doesn’t actually ‘break’.
Life’s not a race. Love’s not a race. Stop competing.
There’s nothing nearly as sentimental or romantic about hitting ‘like’ on a Valencia-filtered holiday snap. Sorry. There just isn’t.
While nobody likes to say it out loud, most of us understand, somewhere deep down, that neither notions are grounded in any kind of certainty. Yet on the subject of love, we seem to collectively abandon our common sense and soldier on, perpetuating the belief that it is.
We must choose to fall in love again each morning — find new creases in the same page, new freckles on the same back, new algorithms to the same familiar smile. We must ensure that our love remains a journey.
Is it even possible to write powerfully from a place other than pain?