I believe now that we are greater than the sum of our parts. If you take her genetic code and you add her life experiences and the relationships she had with people, and then you take the size and shape of her body, you do not get her. There is something else entirely. There is a part of her greater than the sum of her knowable parts and that part has to go somewhere, because it cannot be destroyed.
We are as indestructible as we think ourselves to be. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are.
What if it’s a feed forward mechanism — me, breaking up my heart?
Me, rejecting you before any of this goes further, before any of this gets more serious.
Me, depriving you of chances to hurt me. Because I have no doubt it will hurt sooner or later.
Isn’t that how it always goes? It hurts most when we’re at our highest? And we pretend that we’re okay because we have a history together. A good history. A history sprinkled with happy moments and bliss. But sooner or later that’s not going to be enough to cover for the hurt we are making each other feel.
So yes, I’m saving you from a world of hurt. Mind you, that’s a side effect. The main thing is that I’m saving myself. Maybe for someone worthy of the risk. Maybe.
It’s sad how the person who told you time and time again that he would always be there for you through everything, has a very limited definition of the word everything.
In his dictionary,
Everything n. All things good, and sweet. Excludes all else.
Maybe Love stays. Maybe Love can’t. Maybe Love shouldn’t. Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to. And Love leaves exactly when Love must. When Love arrives, say, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.” If Love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her, turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, “Thank you for stopping by”
On March 30, 1973, E. B. White took it upon himself to write a letter to a man who lost his faith in humanity — and it was beautiful. 🙂
Finishing a chapter doesn’t mean you can’t read it again. But you read it again, not for the thrill of something new, but only to remind yourself of the things it has taught you. Because in the end, you may hope for a different ending, a different chronicle of events, but the outcome actually never changes.
I’m scared that I’m slipping back into my old, sad self. The scariest part is that I don’t know what or who is causing it. And that I feel like I’m trying my best to counter it, but it’s inevitable. I want to run away. In fact, I’m running, as fast as I can. And I’m getting tired. Melancholy and Loneliness are coming up behind me fast.
“Busy,” in essence, is a rock-solid deferment from any obligation to the relationship, which enables the woman to escape without any guilt tripping, because for all you know, she might actually be busy. And of course if you accuse her of this, she will absolutely invent some brilliant story to back her busy claim.
People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person that brings you to attention so you can change your life. A true soulmate is probably the most important person you will ever meet, because they tear down your wall and smack you awake. But to live with with a soulmate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soulmates, they come into your life to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.
— Richard from Texas
When someone is there for you, the security allows you to be vulnerable and dependent. The two things no one wants to be, but inescapably needs to be at some point.