literature

Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean after years of puddle-jumping.
It is realizing you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.
Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman men will hurt.
If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean, even after it has left you gasping, salty.
So forgive yourself for the decisions you’ve made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night,
And know this: know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it herself.
You were born to build.
—  Sarah Kay, “The Type”
I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart. That’s how it is with us. It’s a shame….because we’ve loved each other… But in the end, we can’t stay together forever.
—  Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go