I remember that it hurt. Looking at her hurt.
"Lately I’ve been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and how I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be. And when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe."
"I love that moment. When you’re on a long car ride, or listening to music, or reading. And you completely zone out. You forget your troubles, and everyone around you. You’re focused on that one thing, and that one thing only. You’re content, and everything seems peaceful."
"Most things about me are hard to explain, I guess, like how I’m mostly delusional and live in a half-imaginary world but am also a realist to the core. I’m just a bunch of contradictions most of the time and I don’t like it, but I also do."
I want to be kissed angrily.
I want a girl who has had an extremely bad day and is mad at the world, shove me against a wall and kiss me until both our lips start to bruise. I want her to pour out all the anger shes feeling and shove it down my lungs, and then I want to push back. Not with force but with air, I want to turn that anger into love and turn the bruising kiss soft. I want to remind her that life is too beautiful to hate.
This is absolutely perfect.