Saturday, January 16, 2010

Today, I hate infatuation.

"We could do it, you know, last forever. I see nothing wrong with our system. We fight sometimes, but that's good. It means we care enough to not let "us" just fall apart. We scream and we get angry and we say not very nice things but we never go to bed angry. We always work it out and if we don't, we agree that the other is too important to lose over a stupid argument. You make me so happy and I understand you. I can tell you things because I trust you. I know I could forgive you for anything you do to me. You've already done the worst but that's in the past. I still love you with my whole heart. I think we could do it, really. We could.
If God had meant for today to be perfect, he wouldn't have invented tomorrow.
Why are the words Good-bye, I'm sorry, and I love you so easily pronounced but so hard to say?
Sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down are the ones who help you get back up.
Being taken for granted can be a compliment. It means you’ve become a comfortable, trusted element in another person’s life.
Then I realized that the only reason I called you, was because that's what I always used to do. Not because I needed you or because I wanted your opinion, but because it was instinctive.
And as she walked away, he wished more than anything that she'd look back.
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
And while he sat with her, crying over some boy that she was much too good for, the only comfort that he could offer her was open arms, and a promise that life would go on.
He lost the game, and she was sad, because there'd be someone else cheering him up after.
He was glad she had a boyfriend, he was glad she was happy. It made her look beautiful. It made him wonder if she'd ever looked that way while she was his.
Come on and paint me the rainbows, so I can follow it. I dont know where it will take me, but I like wondering.
I sang out loud all the notes that I knew. I remember all your lyrics from beginning to end. It's your rhythm, baby, that slips through my hands.
You've got me so worked up now my heartbeat is punching through my clothes
How can one person be so hard to handle?

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