To Love And To Loathe Novels & Stories

The kiss replays over and over in her mind, his mouth, his hands, the way it felt exactly like it used to and nothing like it was supposed to anymore. They had loved each other once very deeply and recklessly and that same red hot love had destroyed them both. Down the hall, Lance lies awake as well, jaw clenched, the taste of her still on his lips, knowing with grim certainty that this week is going to undo both of them all over again.

"Damien, I don't think we're compatible. At all. I’ve been listening to you all night, and I really don't like your take on love and relationships. It’s all so... calculated." Damien didn't look offended. He just leaned back, his silhouette framed by the glowing city skyline behind him. "That’s because it is business, Kayla. I’ve told you from the start: I don’t like commitment. I don't like the messiness of emotions or the way they make people lose focus." I looked at him, really looked at him. He had everything—money, power, looks—and yet he was building a wall of glass and steel around his heart.

Dante’s eyes burned with disgust and disdain. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he said, his tone calm but cutting like a blade. “I’d rather die than live with a rotten creature like you.” His words pierced through me, shattering my heart into pieces. The look in his eyes — so full of loathing, the same heavy, familiar look I’d seen my whole life in my own family — was destroying me. In that moment, I felt something excruciating, a pain so deep it left me silent, as if my heart had been ripped out and smashed into a thousand shards. The pain crept in so quietly I didn’t even realize when I had become his possession.

“Mira, listen to me.” She hesitated. But didn’t pull away. “I will never forget your mom,” he said gently. “Not ever. She was a part of me. She still is.” Mira looked at him, searching his face. “Then why does it feel like everything is replacing her?” she whispered. Dennis shook his head slowly. “Nothing is replacing her. Love doesn’t work like that.” She frowned slightly. “I didn’t stop loving your mom to love Katie,” he explained. “And this baby? It doesn’t take anything away from you. It just… adds to our family.”

I nodded in awkward confusion, "I will." "Do you love Andrew?" "What?"

Was turning a blind eye against all the atrocities done against you, closing your ears from all the spiteful sounds that certainly break you little by little and successfully kill you, all bits and parcels of love? Were all these parts of love? Of loving? Was love supposed to hurt you? To let you bask in pain as agony seeped into your bones, in every single cavity there was in your body? To make you feel worthless, unwanted, and not enough? Did it have to make you sleep with your eyes open as your endless nightmares, insecurities, and anxieties haunt you? Was it supposed to make you beat yourself up every single day the sun decided to rise? Was it all supposed to be like this?

Love gives you happiness, but when it fails it will make your life miserable. Love gives you strength, but when it fails it makes you weak. Love gives you delight, but when it fails it will leave you in tears. Love will cherished you, but when it fails it will leave you wounded. Love will protect you, but when it fails it will neglect you. Love gives you a positive feeling, but when it fails it makes you hostile. Love gives you warmth, but when it fails it makes your heart cold.

'Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make, one day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without and find that breath is of little consequence.' ❤❤❤❤ CROSSING JASON'S PATH ❤❤❤❤

theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear the