Holly Riordan

You don’t realize that she’s hurting, because she’s perfected her fake smile, her fake laugh. She knows how to look like she’s having the time of her life when she’s secretly dying inside. She knows how to fool you into believing she’s okay.

If he keeps making empty promises, if he keeps showing up late to dates, if he keeps disappointing you over and over again, then he clearly has no respect for you.

I wonder why the group of girls that just walked past me started laughing — even though chances are it wasn’t about me at all. I wonder why some stranger has been staring at me — even if they only glanced.

She doesn’t want to let anyone down. She doesn’t want to let herself down. She puts way too much pressure on herself.

“The freaky part was straight ahead at my head level was a round red splatter pattern on the back wall that had been painted over with a coat of white paint.”

Sometimes, romance is cleaning up the house when she says she’s going to be home late from work. Sometimes, romance is giving her a massage when she says she’s feeling sore. Sometimes, romance is free.

I refuse to send the first text, because I refuse to admit that I’m the one who cares more.

She always has a million things on her mind. Even when she should be relaxing, she’s stressing about something. Her mind never shuts off.

She isn’t going to sleep with you right away or say I love you when she still barely knows you. She’s going to wait until the timing is right. Until she’s comfortable around you. Until she knows for sure you’re someone that deserves her time.

Snooping around. If you have to go through your partner’s emails and text messages, because you don’t trust them, then why are you even with them? You need to find someone you believe would never hurt you.

She’ll teach you how to feel. How to accept love. How to give yourself fully to another person.

He tells you that your favorite bands suck. That your favorite shows are trash. That your favorite books are boring. He thinks that everything you say is stupid.

You always end up drinking the most when you’re drinking together. You keep pushing each other to take one more sip, one more shot.

Do you really want him to know how much you’ve been missing him?

I’m not going to accept excuses about how you’re too busy to see me, too busy to text back, too busy to put in any effort.

If you ask him to go to a certain concert or movie, he complains the entire time. He ruins the night by acting like he’s doing you a huge favor by being there.

A tiny bit of kindness goes a long way with you. That’s why you always get stuck daydreaming about boys that you only saw for two seconds and will probably never see again.

I stuffed myself into a lacy blue bra and posed with the knife rested against my cheek, between my teeth, and hovering over my neck. I figured the guy had some sort of fetish. Some bondage, BDSM, masochistic shit. For 500 bucks, I really didn’t give a damn.