“I’m sorry,” I say. “I get it.”
He looks up. Meets my eyes. “Do you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I don’t think you do, actually. In fact, I hope you don’t. I wouldn’t want you to know how I feel right now: I wouldn’t wish that for you.”
I’ve got my own problems, my own burdens, my own pain and frustration, and besides, no one ever asks me about my day. No one ever follows up with me, no one bothers to peer beneath the surface of my smile. So why should I care?
I shouldn’t.
“Kishimoto, if I considered other people’s mediocre standards a sufficient metric by which to measure my own accomplishments, I’d never have amounted to anything.”
"I’m so happy for my friends. I love them, even when they piss me off. I care about them. I want their joy. But it still hurts a little when it feels like, everywhere I look, everyone seems to have someone."
Diyecek fazla bir şey yok kenji gibi seven biri bulursanız nikahı basın mükemmel bir insan ya mükemmel tek kusuru juliette gibi bir mal ile arkadaş olması.
Their relationship makes sense. Suddenly everything she’s ever said to me about him makes sense. I still don’t think I understand Warner, but it’s obvious that something about her lights a fire in him. He looks alive when she’s in his arms. Human like I’ve never seen him before.
Like he’s in love.