Quotes in category: “Love - Sad”:

Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffitied. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.

I want you to stay with me. And that’s the problem. Every time you leave me, I need you a little bit more. 

I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.

Still now I send letters
into space hoping that 
some mail man somewhere
will track you down 
and recognise you
from the descriptions in my poems,
that he will place the stack of them
in your hands
and tell you, 
“there is a girl who still writes you,
she doesn’t know how not to."

We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know. 

I could feel my insides sink. My knees too. So I sat on the ground, against the wall, letting it support me. I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like. I thought heartbreak was me, standing alone at the prom. That was nothing. This, this was heartbreak. The pain in your chest, the ache behind your eyes. The knowing that things will never be the same again. It’s all relative, I suppose. You think you know love, you think you know real pain, but you don’t. You don’t know anything. 

I’m used to talking to him all the time, about the most meaningless stuff. To have him gone feels like a loss, an absence haunting me every day. Without him, there’s just the empty space that used to be filled with laughter and friendship and comfort. Can you really blame me for finding it so hard to let go?

Loneliness is like starvation: you don’t realize how hungry you are until you begin to eat.

Isn’t it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle—it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It’s not an act of bitterness. It’s an act of self-preservation.

The memory of being unhappy has the power to hurt us long after the fact. We feel the injury anew each and every time we think of it. 

That was the kind of hurt that could only be inflicted by someone you loved, who you thought loved you. It was sort of like being stabbed from the inside out. 

Imagine him as a cruel villain with a cape and a mustache and a grand, unsettling laugh. But he is not that at all. He is, in most ways, a very good and caring person who I miss very much. Smart and charming and all of that. Even now, on the very rare occasion that one of us sends the other a two-sentence email, it almost feels okay. But mostly it feels like two people who used to know one another.

After he left, I cried for a week. And then I realized I do have faith…faith in myself. Faith that I would someday meet someone who would be sure that I was the one. 

Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do. 

It was easy and safe. Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you feel sucks. 

Only time will determine when and how you’re going to move on. Sure, it might not be right away like you want it to be, but eventually one day you’ll wake up and realize that somewhere along the way, that piercing feeling you’ve been feeling inside your chest faded and went away while you were too busy living life to notice.

I've moved on, yes, but that doesn't mean that I've forgotten. And that doesn't mean that I won't be here anymore if you ever want to come back.

I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone—you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence. 

We're all in prison. I built mine myself, but that doesn't make it any easier to get out.

I’ve never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.

The worst is when someone in your past trumps the person in your present, and you think to yourself: if I'd known this, then maybe I wouldn't have let him go. 

It's not what I feel about you, it's what I can't feel for anyone else no matter how hard I try.

I could follow you to the beginning, just to relive the start & maybe then we'll remember to slow down at all of our favorite parts. 

You don't realize just how many things remind you of a person until they become someone you no longer wish to remember.