She loves comfort, sure, but it’s possible to take comfort in the unknown, to get a sense of purpose from the idea that you are a dot in the middle of the map, that you aren’t as big as you can sometimes let yourself believe.
If it comes too easily, or feels too natural, you’re automatically suspicious of it.
Wanting someone you can’t have is one of the most painful things you can experience, in an almost physical way.
If they’re comfortable, and I know they will be, I will slowly start to steal your clothes and integrate them quietly into my wardrobe.
I have never been called a slut by a man. I don’t know if that makes me exceptional, but it’s true to my experience.
My friends ask, “why don’t you delete him?” And I should. There would be a moment of weirdness, because we are friends in theory, but he would get over it. He would probably even understand.
I knew what he wanted to say. We’re not dating. We’re not a thing. We’re not in the kind of relationship that would make events like this something that was expected of him.
Sometimes, you imagine what it would be like to be decidedly in the “pretty” category. You imagine that it’s a lot better than it probably is, that it comes with the kind of benefits that Premium membership does in private clubs.
You should leave him tonight because you keep talking about your resolutions, about all the things you want to do next year to make yourself a better person, but when you picture that better person, she is always alone.
Because each person who has proven to be a source of heartache only has this power over me because they were once so beautifully important to my life.