"
Unrequited love is like staring at a wall full of pictures of the person you love. You can’t tear your eyes away, and you can’t stop the pain.
Moving on is covering up those pictures with new memories. And even though you catch glimpses of those pictures in the background every so often, they don’t fill you with despair anymore.
Just the nostalgia of bittersweet love.
"- Excerpt from a book I’ll never write (via sunflowerletters)
"Respect is one of the greatest expressions of love."
- Miguel Angel Ruiz (via quotemadness)
(Source: quotemadness.com, via hatin)
"I’m tired of getting my heart broken by you but I’m tired of not being with you."
- thoughts (via thepriceisr-ght)
"I knew I was in love
when I started looking for you
in crowded rooms."
- (via mypenleaksiridescence)
"“It’s been a while.” Frail. Her voice sounded so goddamn frail. She didn’t know how they’d ended up alone together in the barely lit garden when they’d been in a crowded room a heartbeat before, and how he’d gotten so close that she could count the freckles on his nose in the weak lamplight. “Yes. Yes, it’s been a while,” he echoed, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Too close. He smelled of cheap vodka and something sweet - cherry, maybe. The confusion was visible in his brown eyes, the way he didn’t quite know how to act around her, the way he tried to suppress his initial reaction of reaching out to touch her. “Please stay where you are,” she whispered and the hurt that flashed across his face broke her heart all over again. He’d never shared her view on life, had always failed to understand why she was so afraid. She knew that with every time she said hello to him came a goodbye, like thunder unrelentlessly followed lightning. And while he would always choose everything over nothing, accepting the bad times if it meant also getting the good ones, she’d rather stick with nothing at all, too scared of the tears and the heartbreak and the prospect of having to move on if things didn’t work out. Always careful.
“Talk to me, please,” he begged, shivering slightly in the cold, “there are so many things we should talk about.” He was right - they had turned their backs on unfinished business, paused arguments and unsaid words that now squeezed her throat shut. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t run back to him simply because the opportunity was there and he was drunk, both on vodka and on her, and because it would be easy to return to what she knew. It would be just as hard to let him go again. “Can’t we try to work things out? Can’t we try to be friends?” But how could they ever be just friends if he had seen every inch of her, if he knew her deepest secrets and how to break her?
“I can’t. I can’t just be your friend.” She saw his face fall and her heart seized. But the knowledge remained: she could never say hello to him because it meant just another goodbye and if she never had to say goodbye again, it’d be too soon. But where did they stand when being friends wasn’t enough but being more than friends was too much?"
- excerpt
n.j. (via ninasdrafts)
"No boy deserves your body if it’s the only thing he is willing to value you for"
- (via badxbiitch)
"2 years. 2 full years today since we started talking. It’s so crazy how within 2 years, you can meet someone, become their world and then become strangers. For the past 2 years I’ve thought of nothing except you. You are my whole world even if im not yours. And always will I love you with my whole heart even if you don’t love me with any of yours."
- AG (via youtuukkamyheart)