“It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t come back. You’re left so alone that you can’t explain.
Damn, there’s nothing like that, is there? I’ve been there and you have too. You’re nodding your head.
“She was no more than fourteen, but that heart bad been broken, and had destroyed itself, savagely wounded by the outrage that had amazed and horrified her young childish conscience, overwhelmed her soul, pure as an angel’s, with unmerited shame, and torn from her a last cry of despair, unregarded, but defiantly shrieked into the dark night, into the blackness, the cold, the torrents of spring, while the wind howled….”—Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment (via pisatofevrale)