"I feel like I’ve tried for so long to be happy, and the more I try, the more that goal slips from my reach. It’s almost like quicksand where the more you struggle, the more submerged you become. I’ve given up on everything. Nothing matters to me anymore. Especially myself. The part of my life that matters least to me is myself. I’m no one, and I always have been."
"I think it’s time I let you go. And that’s so hard to do because some part of me will be in love with you for the rest of my life. But the daydreaming, the running in place, it’s not healthy. So this is me, cutting the cord. This is me, doing what I should have done eight months ago: Saying goodbye."
"I wanted to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about your face. That you had burrowed your way so deep into my veins that I would fucking bleed you. That if I died tomorrow, I could go a happy man for having felt your lips on my skin. "