Yours Truly

We’re all a little broken, Briana. We are a mosaic. We’re made up of all those we’ve met and all the things we’ve been through. There are parts of us that are colorful and dark and jagged and beautiful. And I love every piece of you. Even the ones you wish didn’t exist.

I always think that when we’re quiet, we’re agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we’re just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.

I had to remember that not everyone over-thought everything the way I did. Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

It’s like I always say,” Mom said, wiping under her eyes. “Love shows up. That’s how you know when it’s real.

Have you ever heard the saying that if you’re with someone who doesn’t speak your language, you’ll spend a lifetime having to translate your soul?

I’m sorry someone made you feel like it’s hard to love you,’ she said.

Jacob made me feel safe. He was like a living lullaby. A softly spoken word. The smell of coffee and toast in the morning or a cozy fleece blanket. The rain pattering on the roof on a day where you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.

But remember, you can’t spell disappointment without men,

Love me. Just love me instead. I’d take care of you. I’d protect you and shield you and be anything you needed. I’d be harmless to you…

It was just the two of us, alone together, showing up. Because that’s what love does. It shows up.

The only problem with anger is that it burns hot and fast. It doesn’t tend to burn long. Sadness burns long. Grief. Disappointment.

if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid?

I’m beginning to think men are not sending us their best people.

I know all of your quiets. I know when you’re alone with me and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is still. And when you’re in public and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is loud. But I don’t know this one. What’s this one?

There’s a special peace in sleeping next to someone you love.

Jacob was who he said he was. All the time. And to me, men were never who they said they were. But this one, by all accounts, sort of was. And it scared the absolute shit out of me.

I didn’t usually watch new shows. I just rewatched the same ones over and over. I liked the familiarity, the predictability. If I rewatched a show, there were never any surprises. No emotional jump scares. I didn’t have to process new feelings or stress over cliffhangers. I knew where it was going and how it would end.

Un hombre que puede mantener viva una planta tiene la paciencia de aguantar tus mierdas. It means ‘A man who can keep a plant alive has the patience to put up with your shit.

This was me making space for her, even though she would never know it. My way of saying thank you for her friendship, even if it was too quiet to hear.

You and me? We're different. We agree to be harmless to each other.

I don’t think anyone had ever written me a letter before. It was shockingly effective. Way better than text or email, like it had a different weight to it or something. There’s something about holding the paper in your hand, seeing the ink on the page, the press of the pen. He made this. It took effort. It was a physical act. He couldn’t erase it if he made a mistake, he had to think about what he was going to say before he said it—or he said exactly what he wanted to and didn’t need to change it.

I was so sick and tired of platitudes. God has a plan. Everything happens for a reason. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. No, it doesn’t, and fuck all of it.

We are all a little broken. We are a mosaic. We're made up of all those we've met and all the things we've been through. There are parts of us that are colorful and dark and jagged and beautiful. And I love every piece of you. Even the ones you wish didn't exist.

And just so you know, there is no greater show of love than someone bringing you food without being told.

This isn’t your life, Bri. This is just a shitty chapter in your story.

If you're with someone who doesn't speak your language, you'll spend a lifetime translating your soul.

I couldn’t explain the intense, panicked flight response I was feeling. The need to run. Push him away before he hurt me, like all the other important men in my life had. Get myself to safety before it was too late, insulate myself before history repeated itself. […] I wanted Jacob to make me all the promises and tell me it was going to be okay, that I was safe and loved and he wanted this and he wanted me. I wanted him to tell me we were different, and I wished to God that I was the kind of undamaged person who could believe something like that. But I wasn’t. And I probably never would be.

All they do is lie and throw off your PH balance. They are a constant reminder that we don’t choose our sexuality, because who in their right mind would choose to be attracted to men. They are completely worthless as partners. Did you know that when a wife becomes seriously ill, she is six times more likely to be abandoned by her spouse than a husband is?

Sometimes the hardest thing isn't trusting the next person. It's trusting yourself