““When should you let go?” She asked, with her chin rested on her palm. “When the ‘I love yous’ stop sounding like ‘I love you’,” I answered, “When they begin to sound very much like, ‘I’m sorry’.””
“And,“ she said, “if you have someone who stays up with you in the middle of the night to make sure you’re okay - somebody who answers your calls at 2 or 3 or 4am - someone who listens to your sobs, or your silence, or your words with patience, you have somebody who loves you. And you’re lucky for it. And no matter how dark things get, you shouldn’t forget that.”
“Sometimes everything seems a little fucked up. Or very fucked up. But not everybody knows how to appreciate and love the fucked up things; and the fucked up people.”
