part of me wants to be seven and careless.
part of me wants to be back in your bed.
part of me wants to be forty and settled.
part of me wants to be dead.
It wasn’t real. I deluded myself. I had this aching need to be loved and it was screwing with my head. Sometimes, when you crave certain feelings, you’ll trick yourself into thinking the other person is something other than what he appears. ―Ilona Andrews, Magic Strikes (via larmoyante)
There is a limit to the amount of misery and disarray you will put up with, for love, just as there is a limit to the amount of mess you can stand around a house. You can’t know the limit beforehand, but you will know when you’ve reached it. I believe this. ―Alice Munro (via perfect)