My favorite conversations are the ones with no real answers.
You can stop swimming now, Lily. We finally reached the shore.
I feel like everyone fakes who they really are, when deep down we’re all equal amounts of screwed up. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others.
My mother went through it. I went through it. I’ll be damned if I allow my daughter to go through it. I kiss her on the forehead and make her a promise. 'It stops here. With me and you. It ends with us.'
As his daughter, I loved him. But as a human, I hated him.
Cycles exist because they are excruciating to break. It takes an astronomical amount of pain and courage to disrupt a familiar pattern. Sometimes it seems easier to just keep running in the same familiar circles, rather than facing the fear of jumping and possibly not landing on your feet.
I love it when the night sky makes me feel insignificant.
For the first time, I think I’m genuinely turned on by him as a doctor. I mean, I admire his drive. I admire his dedication. But seeing how excited he is about what he’s doing for a living is seriously sexy.
I’ll keep pretending to swim, when really all I’m doing is floating. Barely keeping my head above water.
I place the flowers on the center display table. 'I’m pretty sure this is exactly what I was supposed to do with my life.'
And as hard as this choice is, we break the pattern before the pattern breaks us.
There’s just too much drive and success between the two of us.' 'That means the honeymoon phase will last until we’re eighty,' he says.