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168 pages, Paperback
First published April 8, 2016
Because the last thing this world needs is one more indifferent person. If you're the only one left with passion, then use it. Use the hell out of it. At the end of your life, go out with a bruised-up, worn out heart that gave too much and loved too strongly and felt too fiercely.
(from "just be the one who cares more")
To love without expectation, you have to be okay with yourself. Okay with opening your doors, spreading your arms, barring your heart and understanding that not everyone is going to be gentle with it. You have to know that you can recover from those aches, that you can heal your own wounds, that you can trust yourself to walk away from the situations that do not grow or aid you.
Because here's the thing about placing expectations on others: at the root of expectation is need. Need for others to accept you, to validate you, to tell you that you're good and worthwhile and strong. And if you can do that for yourself - if you can live up to your own expectations and desires, then the need for other people to do so disappears. The need to bend over backwards, to accommodate others, to seek validation from those who do not deserve your heart, disappears.
(from "here is how you love without expectation")
...none of us want to think of ourselves as works in progress. We want everything to happen instantaneously: Falling in love, falling out of it, letting go of what we ought to leave in the past and moving on to whatever comes next. We hate the in-between spaces - the times when we're okay but not quite there yet.
...
We have to be patient with ourselves as we move through the parts in between the where we've been and where we're going. We have to let the chasm motivate rather than dishearten us. It's okay to not be there yet. It's okay to be unsure of every step that you take forward. We don't talk about how moving on sometimes feels like we're fighting every part of our most basic instincts, but we should. We should talk about how growth is often every bit as painful as it is beautiful.
(from "read this if you feel like it's taking you too long to move on")
Because I’m going to miss you. Because you’re going to pop into my mind on a rainy Sunday evening when Bon Iver is humming in the background and I’ve poured myself a tall glass of wine and a whiff of your old cologne catches me suddenly off guard – lingering in the apartment like an unwanted house guest who was never invited to stay.
Please delete my number. Because I’m going to want to call you when I apply for that job you always said that I should go for, or cut my hair in that way I never dared to or get that dog we always talked about getting and don’t know who to text its eager picture to. I’m going to want to call you when the Bills win and when the last snow melts and when each long, wine-saturated night draws to a close and I wish that it were still you I was on my way home to.
Please delete my number – because I didn’t want to end up here. Because the word “Maybe” is the slowest form of torture that you possibly could have settled on, dragging out a hope that died long ago despite your stark refusal to bury it. Because maybe doesn’t mean, “This may happen.”
It means, “I am too fearful to go but not strong enough to stay.”
It means, “I’ll miss you but not enough to be with you.”
It means, “I love you but not quite enough to stick around and fight.”
Please delete my number – because I don’t want to delete you. Because I want you with a certainty that you will perhaps never possess. Because I do not have to think twice about whether I would like to answer your text messages or pick up your phone calls. Because I’m sure. Because I do not love people halfway and that’s where you and I differ. I don’t want the occasional phone call. I don’t want to play your tired-out game.
Please delete my number because I’m not going to settle for your maybes. I want concrete. I want definite. I want people who call when they say they will and show up when they plan to. I don’t want to spend my life waiting for and wasted on a person who can only love halfway. I do not want your texts, late at night that say,
“I miss you” or
“I’m sorry” or
“I just need a little bit more time.”
Please delete my number – because I’m deleting yours. And you can find someone new to text your maybes to.
"It is hard to get over a cheater because when you leave the relationship, there're two people you must mourn:
- One is the asshole who cheated on you, in all their flawed, unfaithful glory
- The other person you must get over is the person you thought they were."
"To love without expectation, you show compassion. You remember the times when you’ve lied and cheated and fell short of the expectations other people set for you, and you forgive yourself for them."
"So this is me unclasping my fingers.
This is my parting, my reluctance, my heartache and my final gift to you.
This is me letting you go."
The people we meet at the wrong time are actually just the wrong people.
If we didn’t have to search for the love of our lives, we would finally be free to realize that we are allowed to be the loves of our own.
They don’t tell you that nobody can tell you the way love is going to feel for you. That it’s an experience so unique to all of us that we’ll never fully understand what we’re getting ourselves into until we find ourselves right in the middle of it.