Things I Wanted To Say: (but never did)

Love shouldn’t be dark. All-consuming. That’s passion.

Obsession.

And won’t we eventually get tired of that?

Grow tired of each other?

“There’s no one else for me,” he says, his blue eyes glowing. “No one else. Only you.”

When things feel too good to be true, that usually means they are.

Sometimes I wonder if the stars aligned that night at his parents’ apartment in Manhattan. As if we were meant to meet. To kiss. To touch.

We kissed. We touched—each other’s souls. We marked each other. Connected.

Forever.

But you are real. It’s as if you were made for me.”

I feel the same way about him. As if he were made for only me.

She’s a drug and I’m hopelessly addicted.

Ambivalence is the worst feeling you could ever have for someone,

. I inhale deeply like a junkie, chasing the high that only she gives me. “

We are definitely rich kids with too many fake friends, as Frank Ocean says in his epic song.

The kiss, his possessive words, are like a balm. They piece me together when all he’s trying to do is tear me apart.