I hate myself for loving people too much. People will hurt you, and they do, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. You just keep putting your heart out there. Some people you meet, it feels like you have known them your whole life, and every life before this one. Those are the people that will either heal you, or just fuck you up so much worse than you ever thought possible. I’ve been looking for a safety net in people my whole life; codependency. In the end, I always feel stupid, and embarrassed, and immature, but my mind suffers more than my heart. I hate how I look at the sky at night. I see constellations and wonder if I’ll ever get to look at them with someone who even gives a shit. I hate even more that all this is meaningless, and wasteful. There are people that would die to be in my shoes, and my mind puts me here, sulking instead. We are an odd species.
This is from The Dog Stars. This book means a lot to me.