"I think somewhere in the middle of the night, I had lost count at one-hundred and fifty-six. I am certain, though, that I had counted the same star fourteen times, but it didn’t matter, because that specific star in last night’s sky had been my absolute favourite. It had stood out, among all of the other stars, not because it had been the brightest of all, but rather because it had been the dimmest, glowing ephemerally, fading into the absolute blackness. Each time my eyes crossed its location, I had noticed that the star had washed out so much, that it almost seemed as if it was a new star, that it almost seemed like the star had been alive alive and like me, had been simply trying to fall asleep as well. Sleep had come before the two-hundredth star, but it had been short and restless and my head had been hurting from thinking too much, but thinking of nothing particularly important at all."
"It’s easy for someone to joke about scars if they’ve never been cut."
"I don’t have a favorite season. I have a favorite feeling. It’s the windows down, silent back roads with dirty bare feet feeling. It’s when I can walk straight outside without pausing to fish out a jacket. It is curtains dancing around my room because of the cool breeze that pushes against its fabric. It is sunsets after dessert and grass as my pillow. The sound of lawnmowers, falling leaves, and rain against the window. Pockets of shade and walks along a gravel road."
"You said you wouldn’t, you did."
"Your body was meant to sit in the passenger seat of my car and your hand was meant to hold mine while I drive."
"Don’t sugar coat it, don’t say “making love”. You make love in letters, and subtle glances across a room. You two are fucking. you are feeling each other for the sake of raw pleasure. You are fucking as in the verb, you both are sweating and panting because you can’t consume enough of each other. So fuck “making love” you are fucking, you are feeling. Eat her out and make her cum on your tongue, life isn’t about censored vulgarity."
"It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring — they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are — that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others — is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough. "
Even the most sexed up man in all of history knew that taking advantage of women was never ok.
"How beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken."
"'I don't think I even breathe when we're not together,' she whispered. 'Which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it's been like sixty hours since I've taken a breath. That's probably why I'm so crabby, and why I snap at you. All I do when we're apart is think about you, and all I do when we're together is panic. Because every second feels so important. And because I'm so out of control, I can't help myself. I'm not even mine anymore, I'm yours, and what if you decide that you don't want me? How could you want me like I want you?'"