Alex Light

It’s not our fault for not giving them a reason to stay. It’s their fault for not finding one.

And with all the downsides of love, you managed to show me the upside,”

Read to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with you.”

It was like, if love couldn’t exist in reality, at least it was alive in fiction. Between the pages it was safe.
The heartbreak was contained. There was no aftermath, no shock waves. I mean, there’s a reason all books end right after the couple gets together. No one wants to keep reading long enough to see the happily ever after turn into an unhappily ever after. Right?

Love was destructive, dangerous.

I knew a lot about love. I knew there were two kinds: 1) real love and 2) fictional love. The real kind was what I thought my parents had, pre-divorce. The fictional kind was what I’d preferred since.

I’m guessing you want to be the prince?”

“Only if you’re the princess.”

Could love really
make the world stop? Why did it make every female character feel alive? Wasn’t she alive before she met him? Or was she in some zombie-like, comatose state? How did love change that, and more importantly, why couldn’t I seem to get enough of this unrealistic crap?

Love was destructive, dangerous. It was safer on pages, and these books were enough of an experience for me. I mean, look at Romeo and Juliet. Was the play tragic? Sure.

“Do you regret this?” she asked.