I was wrong
Love is more like being strapped to somebody else who’s wearing the parachute and you’re both jumping out of the plane and you really, really hope that one of you can land this thing. (Edit: If you’re feeling this way, please pull the red emergency lever and exit the ride as soon as possible.)
It’s supposed to feel like leaning out over a precipice and their hands holding yours are all that’s keeping you from falling…right? (Edit: no. Feeling terror was perhaps an indicative of something. Example: that guy was not good for you.)
Sometimes I just want to run as far as I can and then scream until my lungs burst.