olivejooce

Maybe I’m so caught up in getting over him I don’t notice the perfect person that is sitting right in front of me, actually I’m starting to think he is standing up and doing a dance.

I live to like you and I can’t like you anymore. So when you get your heart splattered all over hell and you’re feeling really low and dirty, don’t run to me to help pull you back up because, maybe, for the first time in your life, I won’t be there.

I will not be the first one to speak. And if he never calls me again, I’ll always think of him fondly. As an asshole.

Tell him that I don’t love him and that I don’t need him anymore. Tell him that I do not miss him and that I do not want to see him anymore. But most of all do not tell him I said all of this with tears in my eyes…

When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth.

Tears are words the heart can’t express.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

I must and will have more. And I will because the little gap in my heart that causes me so much pain, the skip in the record that needs to be filled, gives me room to find the extraordinary. And I will. my heart will feel more than you ever thought a heart can feel and my mind will see things that no one even knew existed: the little gossamer threads that tie life together, and which, if you don’t look carefully enough, you will miss as you see things moving in space and not the ties that bind them. Just watch me.

Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody’s going to know whether you did it or not.

The more familiar two people become, the more the language they speak together departs from that of the ordinary, dictionary-defined discourse. Familiarity creates a new language, an in-house language of intimacy that carries reference to the story [they] are weaving together and that cannot be readily understood by others.