Nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads.
Because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl...
Lately, I’m finding no distinction between the number of times I’ve been impressed by a non-Christian yet disappointed by a Christian. Then again, who am I judge…?
Emotions are fickle. I remember how I thought I could never forget you and now I scarcely remember anything about you at all.
To 24 years, with no signs of slowing down.