“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness… It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman

_{I’m glad I ran into you. I’m glad we saw each other after all this time. I’ve imagined it so often, you know? Tomorrow I’ll wonder if it even happened at all. I’m glad I ran into you! Somehow I feel so much lonelier than before. I, uh… well, I used to think I could call you. Go have lunch. Get married. As simple as that. The promise of all those high school physics film strips fulfilled. A little spill milk leaps back into pitchers. Broken teacups miraculously reassemble. Time really can — you know, time really can move in two directions. Time really can move in two directions. It doesn’t matter to the universe anyway. Which is to say… which is to say… I don’t know. Which is to say that I… I thought everything could still turn out. Now everything seems so much… more definite. It seems so much more real. It seems so much more final. A little milk, once spilled, cannot unspill. And a broken tea cup is always a broken teacup. You know, it’s funny, ‘cause everyone thinks that they shouldn’t mention you to me. But the omission… the omission only makes it worse. I’d like to hear about you sometimes. I love you. For better or for worse. You can take that on your travels. [x]}

“That’s a first for me. How about you?”

savedher:

We will meet again somehow

“They’d never bury my wife out here.”

“And I can always see you.”
“Then why didn’t you speak to me?”
“Because I thought it would hurt too much.”
“I believe I could have coped.”
“No. I thought it would hurt me. And I was right.”

agelessdaughter:

First thing we should do / if we see each other again is to make / a cage of our bodies—inside we can place / whatever still shines. [x]

You could sacrifice your queen.