— (via seksu)
So we talked. About nothing. And some non-nothing things. I felt myself trying to forget all of the reasons we never worked as I remembered the good times. It’s not that I miss you. But I miss the feeling something. And you always knew how to make me feel. For better or the worst. We never worked. It’s funny when fate won’t allow something you want to happen. “I never realized how in love with you I was until you were gone.” And I guess that was the problem all along.
— Leo Tolstoy, from “Anna Karenina,” (The Russian Messenger, 1877)