I just want messy. Not even near to perfect, not even neat and tidy. I want messy and human. I want to, for once, feel a connection that terrifies me. One which causes in me everything to go numb and burn all at once.
I don’t need perfect. I don’t need there to be complete peace, or perfect pictures, or the exact right gift.
I need human. Messy and human and real. Because I’m starting to forget what that feels like. I’m starting to yearn for that more than anything else.
I don’t need a picket fence. I have the whole world lying at my feet. But I’d like at least some semblance of not being alone in having the whole world to choose from.
“its sad when people you know, become people you knew, when you can walk right past someone like they were never a big part of your life, how you used to be able to talk for hours and now you can barely look at them”—
“I put my hand on him. Touching him was always so important to me. It was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches. My fingers against his shoulder. The outsides of our thighs touching as we squeezed together on the bus. I couldn’t explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?”—
Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (via quotewhore)
This book made me cry and laugh and sink lower, soar more suddenly than anything else I’ve read. And often within the same paragraph.
“There is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these lovable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else; they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.”—Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself To Live (via quotewhore)