Traci Oya

“We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything. In his eyes, there was no trace of what had happened between us earlier and I could feel something inside me break.
So that was that. We were finally, finally over.
I looked at him, and I felt so sad, because this thought occurred to me: 'I will never look at you the same way again. I'll never be that girl again. The girl who comes running back every time you push her away, the girl who loves you anyway.'
I couldn’t even be mad at him, because this was who he was. This was who he’d
always been. He’d never lied about that. He gave and then he took away. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, the familiar ache, that lost, regretful feeling only he could give me. I never wanted to feel it again. Never, ever.
Maybe this was why I came, so I could really know. So I could say good-bye.
I looked at him, and I thought, 'If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.'
I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway.
'I release you. I evict you from my heart. Because if I don't do it now, I never will.'
I was the one to look away first.”
― Jenny Han, It's Not Summer Without You

“... and she loved a boy very, very much-- even more than she loved herself.”
― Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree

“Drosophila,” I said, remembering the word.
“What?” Lily asked.
“Why do girls always fall for guys with the at ention span of drosophila?”
“What?”
“Fruit flies. Guys with the attention span of fruit flies.”
“Because they’re hot?”
“This,” I told her, “is not the time for being truthful.”
― Rachel Cohn, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet