Art Comes In So Many Forms

"'Do I want to fuck him, or just be him?' Just being him did seem the lesser risk."

"It's just that sometimes... you can be a little intimidating," Cassidy added. "You don't always seem like you need people. And people like to be needed."

We weren't good kids, but we weren't bad either. We threw parties; we snuck out of our houses; we drank and smoked the occasional cigarette, sometimes weed. But we also made curfew, made Honor Roll, made breakfast for our moms on Mothers Day.

I didn't want to be punished, but I wanted someone to care.

I had missed this–the comfort that came from being desired, from being able to make someone want me. Of wanting someone in return. Of that intensity. How it blotted out every other thought...

"I don't have to hit bottom to know I don't want to. But I think maybe it's possible to have an addictive personality without being addicted to one thing in particular... yet. Was I addicted to avoiding the real world by hanging out with my friends, getting drunk and high?"

Maybe my attraction to him was just a reaction to my anger at Mike. Maybe it was a reaction to Raf's rejection of me when we were kids. Maybe it was fear of putting my heart in the hands of someone else who could crush it and blame it on alcohol.

But I didn't want to break up. I was in love, but more than that, I didn't want to go back to the way that my life was before him. Before I had plans on the weekend–even if I didn't always go through with them. Before I had someone to tell me I was beautiful. The way Mike looked at me was intoxicating, like I was someone worth looking at.

I asked before considering whether it was a good idea. My lips formed words independent of my brain, as if they were desperate for another chance to be on his. Traitors.

"Maybe we're lucky to have each other," I said. And tried to tell myself I believed it.

I wanted to tell her she was a pain in the ass. I also wanted to run after her and give her a hug and tell her that I loved her.

She was more fun than me, prettier than me, thinner than me. How could I blame him?

That was the day I fell for him. I never stood a chance.

“The sound of her name on your lips makes me nauseous. It sounds like mine.”

"I've been thinking about it, and I just don't get why you stayed with him for so long." I shrugged. "Why does anyone stay with someone?" "But why would you feel like you deserved to put up with his bullshit?"