To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Love is scary: it changes; it can go away

She leans her head back and smiles up at me. “I’m OK,” she says, but she isn’t, I know she isn’t

If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms

When someone’s been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it’s like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you’re just clutching air and grit. That’s why you can’t save it all up like that.
Because by the time you finally see each other, you’re catching up only on the big things, because it’s too much bother to tell about the little things. But the little things are what make up life

“Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was all supposed to happen just like this, because … because it was always gonna be you and me.”

Love is scary: it changes; it can go away. That’s part of the risk. I don’t want to be scared any more.

It feels strange to have spent so much time wishing for something, for someone, and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

deep reserves of emotion.

MFEO. Made for each other.

Around three a.m. I throw away Peter’s notes. I delete the picture of him from my phone; I delete his number. I think that if I just delete him enough, it will be like none of it ever happened and my heart won’t hurt so badly.