Saturday, November 08, 2008

When you really love something, then it loves you back.

What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.

A person is never as quiet or unrestrained as they seem. Or as good, as bad, as vulnerable, as strong, or as sweet. We are thickly layered, page by page, behind simple covers. And love--it is not in the book itself, but the binding. It can either rip us apart or hold us together.

The one thing that my heart requires is that you admire me.

I know I love you like the million times I never said.

It is scary though, that moment you decide that you're going to quit fighting the feeling. Quit avoiding the issue. When you give in and you let him love you and you let yourself love him. And yeah, it's not going to be perfect everyday, but everyday is damn near perfect.

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