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How can something so wrong feel so right?
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You cannot undo the past; you can only learn to live with it, find some way of making peace with it, and move on.
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Pressed up against him, I can feel the thud of his heart against mine, his ribcase expanding and contracting rapidly against my chest, the warm whisper of his breath tickling the side of my neck, the brush of his leg against my thigh. Resting my arms on his shoulders, I pull back a little to get a look at his face. But he isn't smiling any more.
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As the light begins to intensify, so does my misery, and I wonder how it is possible to hurt so much when nothing is wrong.
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Being together, we harm nobody; being apart, we extinguish ourselves.
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This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity.
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It's always nice being wanted. Even if it's by the wrong person.
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Do I realy regret that night? That one moment of joy beyond compare – some people never experience it in a lifetime. But the downside to that taste of pure happiness is that,like a drug, a glimmer of paradise, it leaves you craving more.
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Get through today – you can fall apart tomorrow. Get through tomorrow, you can fall apart the day after . . .
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And this is something I must accept - even if, like acid on metal, it is slowly corroding me inside.
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Nothing can relieve the pain. Not crying, laughing, screaming, begging. Nothing can change the past.
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The words fire from my mouth like bullets, ricocheting off the walls before I can even register what I'm saying.
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I would give anything to escape myself, Flynn thought, just for a day, just for a minute even. Just to know what it was like to think differently, to feel differently, and to not be me.
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Time has stopped; time is racing. Lochie's lips are rough yet smooth, hard yet gentle. His fingers are strong: I feel them in my hair and on my neck and down my arms and against my back. And I never want him to let me go.
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I've never seen anyone sleep with their head hanging off the back of a wooden chair before - was the couch not comfortable enough for you?
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...and my loneliness, always my loneliness - that airless bubble of despair that is slowing stifling me.
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Trying to describe my life and feelings to you is like trying to describe coulours to the blind, or music to the deaf. It's simply not possible.
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Anyway, what does mad mean exactly?" Rami added quickly "Aren't we all a little mad? Don't we have to be somehat mad just to go on living, to go on hoping?
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At what point do you give up - decide enough is enough? There is only one answer really. Never.
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Never before have I imagined my life without him—like this house, he is my only point of reference in this difficult existence, this unstable and frightening world. The thought of his leaving home fills me with a terror so strong, it takes my breath away. I feel like one of those seagulls covered in oil from a spill, drowning in a black tar of fear.
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He is my soul mate, my fresh air, the reason I look forward to getting up every morning.
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Willa’s big blue eyes, Willa’s dimpled-cheeked smile. Tiffin’s shaggy blond mane, Tiffin’s cheeky grin. Kit’s yells of excitement, Kit’s glow of pride. Maya’s face, Maya’s kisses, Maya’s love. Maya, Maya, Maya . . .
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Any guy, even imaginary, would just feel like second best. Second best to what? I don't even have an image of the perfect boyfriend. I just know he must exist. Because I have all these feelings-love, longing, wanting to be touched, dreaming of being kissed-yet no one to focus them on.
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There are no laws, no boundaries on feelings.We can love each other as much and as deeply as we want.No one, Maya, no one can ever take that away from us.