Nessie Q. Quotes

Because you see, when you’re a strong person, people often look to you to take care of them. People look to you for help. People look to you for strength.And when your life spins out of control, it’s as if their lives are tied to your own and will come crashing down with yours.

Don’t get me wrong. For the most part, being strong got me through a lot. And I’m thankful that short of people dying on me, nothing can make me break down.There are times, however, when being strong feels a bit of a curse.You see, when you’re a very strong person, people always expect you to take care of yourself. People always expect you to put on a calm and collected exterior. You’re not given much room to freak out and be human.

Love is warmth. It’s the inside jokes. It’s the reassuring touch. It’s the late night talks. It’s the finding of common interests. It’s the sharing of ice cream. It’s the crying shoulder. It’s the acceptance of what’s ugly. It’s the first time you see her without make up. It’s the first time you see him pick his nose.

Love is a bonfire. It’s every kind word. It’s every sincere apology. It’s every compromise.

Love is a spark. It’s the smile that says come to me. It’s the flirty hello. It’s the scent of her perfume. It’s his new haircut. It’s the look that ignites a dozen possibilities. - Set on Fire

being together… it will never be right. Thought it sure as hell feels like it could. We’d result to train wrecks. We’d cause whirlwinds. We’d start wildfires.

Slowly, then all at once.Slowly, as I take my time to know the things that would endear me to you. Slowly, as I attempt to cultivate a bond I hope would never easily sever. Slowly, as I get to know all your demons, and try to decide if I’m okay living with them everyday. Slowly, I also unleash my demons on you, hoping they won’t make me look ugly, wouldn’t make you think less of me.Slowly, as I let myself get used to the idea that you can be a possible permanent fixture in my life. Slowly, as I tell the difference between what I think I see, and what’s really there. Slowly, as I find myself looking to you for reassurance that hey, I’m alright. Slowly, as I find my thoughts drifting toward you when I see or hear or find things that remind me of you. Slowly, as I catch myself dedicating to you all of the pieces that I’ve been writing.

Love is a flicker. It’s that hidden desire. It’s the words you’re afraid to say. It’s stolen glances. It’s the passive-aggressive hints. It’s the mixed signal. It’s the first brush against his hand. It’s the first time you daydream about her.