How could I have ever for a moment believed I wasn't in love with him?
Boys turns girls into such idiots.
Because that's the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into my lunges. I want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. It's mine. I want to check out with it, drift asleep wrapped in its arms and not wake up for a long, long time.
I wish for the thing that is best for me.
Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.
What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.
You read a lot. - Safer than going on a real adventure
Foreign novels are less action-oriented. They have a different pace; they’re more reflective. They challenge us to look for the story, find the story within the story.
You ought to stop listening to stereotypes and start forming your own opinions.
I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you."
I wish the world would swallow us here, whole, in this moment. And that's when it hits me that this - this - is falling in love.
Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
What’d I tell you about musicians? That bad boy type will only break your heart.
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