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“You’ll find your own way to discuss what happened to you. You’ll have to, if you ever want to be close to anyone. But your life—no matter what you think, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and none of it has been your fault. Will you remember that?”

as if lack of privilege were a competition that he was still
determined to win, even in the face of another’s clear and inarguable triumph.

"... apalagi yang tersisa dari hidup kita jika kita berdua masih saja terus bersedih?"

Sebelum masuk sekolah, sering terpikir olehku jika sudah besar, aku ingin menjadi polisi hutan... Malahan, sekarang aku disuruh menjadi anak saleh! Sial betul ayahku ini, kenapa ia tak mengharapkanku menjadi manusia jenis lain?

I already knew this book will made me cry yaaa cuma ngga secepat ini juga kali, masa baru 59 pg dah nangis??????

damn, starting to doubt myself, what kind of homunculus am I? one with childhood trauma? or one with a symbolic shield?

To an ikiryo, you're basically the messiah or maybe more like a shaman.

welp, I still can manage it

will I finish this manga or will this manga finish me? stay tuned

You don’t have to be completely healed to be everything I want. To be mine. I love every part of you, you silly, infuriating woman. I love the parts of you I haven’t even met yet.

You’re the demon I don’t want to exorcise. If I heal and move on, I’m worried I’ll finally lose you for good. But I want to be healthy. And I want to be happy, though I’ve never trusted happiness. To me, happiness is a fleeting, heartbeat-to heartbeat experience that comes and goes and hopefully comes back. I worry happily-ever afters don’t exist for people like us.

I’m not fine. I haven’t been for a while, and I blamed you for so long because the last thing you ever did was teach me how much loving can hurt. I loved you and you left anyway. I tried not to dwell on it, tried not to ask myself how I could have done everything better, tried not to feel anything.

He says, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw. “I’d rather have a fraction of you than all of someone else.” Helen swallows. “I don’t want that for you. For either of us. It’s not—it’s not healthy.”
“I don’t want to be healthy,” Grant says, and his chest is heaving as if he’s just run a marathon. “I just want you.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Most of my writer friends are either married with kids or freezing their eggs. I used to assume motherhood
would be a given, but as I think about it more, I don’t know.” She tilts her head. “I guess I’m afraid of being responsible for someone who never asked for me. And I don’t want to do it alone.”