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I warn them about the chaos and the turbulence. I tell them about the emotions and the past. I recount all of the ways I embody a soul too difficult to handle.

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My mother warned me about beautiful men who might break my heart. But she forgot to mention that if they were drunk and they got angry, they might break my bones too.

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It isn’t going to be love. Because he doesn’t know how to love. Because he is not capable of real love.

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“If his friends are shitty, he is shitty.”

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Please progress with tender loving care, here are some things you should probably know before you try and date me.

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It provides no closure, gives you nothing tangible to work on, and doesn’t even make for good bouts of self-loathing. You just have to kind of absorb the blow and accept that sometimes things don’t work out even though you did everything right, and there is nothing you can do about it.