Yours Truly Abby Jimenez Quotes

We’re all a little broken, Briana. We are a mosaic. We’re made up of all those we’ve met and all the things we’ve been through. There are parts of us that are colorful and dark and jagged and beautiful. And I love every piece of you. Even the ones you wish didn’t exist.

It’s like I always say,” Mom said, wiping under her eyes. “Love shows up. That’s how you know when it’s real.

I always think that when we’re quiet, we’re agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we’re just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.

I had to remember that not everyone over-thought everything the way I did. Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

I’m sorry someone made you feel like it’s hard to love you,’ she said.

Love me. Just love me instead. I’d take care of you. I’d protect you and shield you and be anything you needed. I’d be harmless to you…

Have you ever heard the saying that if you’re with someone who doesn’t speak your language, you’ll spend a lifetime having to translate your soul? Amy never spoke your language. […] Briana’s different. She understands you, even when you don’t say anything at all.

The only problem with anger is that it burns hot and fast. It doesn’t tend to burn long. Sadness burns long. Grief. Disappointment.

Jacob made me feel safe. He was like a living lullaby. A softly spoken word. The smell of coffee and toast in the morning or a cozy fleece blanket. The rain pattering on the roof on a day where you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.

Have you ever heard the saying that if you’re with someone who doesn’t speak your language, you’ll spend a lifetime having to translate your soul?

I’m beginning to think men are not sending us their best people.

There’s a special peace in sleeping next to someone you love.

But remember, you can’t spell disappointment without men,

It was just the two of us, alone together, showing up. Because that’s what love does. It shows up.

I know all of your quiets. I know when you’re alone with me and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is still. And when you’re in public and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is loud. But I don’t know this one. What’s this one?

Jacob was who he said he was. All the time. And to me, men were never who they said they were. But this one, by all accounts, sort of was. And it scared the absolute shit out of me.

-and I got my period. I get to bleed for a week without the sweet release of death.

This isn’t your life, Bri. This is just a shitty chapter in your story.

if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid?

Un hombre que puede mantener viva una planta tiene la paciencia de aguantar tus mierdas. It means ‘A man who can keep a plant alive has the patience to put up with your shit.

This was me making space for her, even though she would never know it. My way of saying thank you for her friendship, even if it was too quiet to hear.

You and me? We're different. We agree to be harmless to each other.

I was so sick and tired of platitudes. God has a plan. Everything happens for a reason. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. No, it doesn’t, and fuck all of it.

This is what it feels like to be truly loved. I’ve never felt it before. And I didn’t even realize it until just now.

I didn’t usually watch new shows. I just rewatched the same ones over and over. I liked the familiarity, the predictability. If I rewatched a show, there were never any surprises. No emotional jump scares. I didn’t have to process new feelings or stress over cliffhangers. I knew where it was going and how it would end.

You know what these silences make me think of?” she said. I looked over at her. “What?” “I always think that when we’re quiet, we’re agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we’re just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.

All they do is lie and throw off your PH balance. They are a constant reminder that we don’t choose our sexuality, because who in their right mind would choose to be attracted to men. They are completely worthless as partners. Did you know that when a wife becomes seriously ill, she is six times more likely to be abandoned by her spouse than a husband is?

And just so you know, there is no greater show of love than someone bringing you food without being told.

A quiet observation of her well-being had grown inside of me the way it did for all the people I cared about. Only not the same. Not the same at all.

we don’t choose our sexuality, because who in their right mind would choose to be attracted to men. They are completely worthless as partners.

I don’t think anyone had ever written me a letter before. It was shockingly effective. Way better than text or email, like it had a different weight to it or something. There’s something about holding the paper in your hand, seeing the ink on the page, the press of the pen. He made this. It took effort. It was a physical act. He couldn’t erase it if he made a mistake, he had to think about what he was going to say before he said it—or he said exactly what he wanted to and didn’t need to change it.

Use me,” he said, his eye resigned. “Use me for whatever you want. Just stay.

If you're with someone who doesn't speak your language, you'll spend a lifetime translating your soul.

This year was going to be my villain origin story, I just knew it.

... When she ghosts me, she haunts me. I can still feel her all around me only I can't see her or touch her and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can't go the rest of my life like this. This isn't living. Nothing is anything without her ...

We are all a little broken. We are a mosaic. We're made up of all those we've met and all the things we've been through. There are parts of us that are colorful and dark and jagged and beautiful. And I love every piece of you. Even the ones you wish didn't exist.

There’s a special peace in sleeping next to someone you love. When you slip into the dark holding them and wake up and they’re still there and you know that everything that matters is just opening your eyes away.

Being liked by Jacob meant something because he was so shy. It's like when someone's pet comes to sit with you instead of their person, and you feel like the chosen one. It made me feel a little special like he saw something in me.

I couldn’t explain the intense, panicked flight response I was feeling. The need to run. Push him away before he hurt me, like all the other important men in my life had. Get myself to safety before it was too late, insulate myself before history repeated itself. […] I wanted Jacob to make me all the promises and tell me it was going to be okay, that I was safe and loved and he wanted this and he wanted me. I wanted him to tell me we were different, and I wished to God that I was the kind of undamaged person who could believe something like that. But I wasn’t. And I probably never would be.

I wondered if sex with him would feel like slipping into warm water.

I loved well hydrated veins.

I want you to know that watching two complete strangers fall in love has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.

I must return to my isolation now. I need twenty to twenty-two hours of alone time a day to function.

I had to let go of any grasp on my old life, on my old insecurities or fears or scars, or I was going to miss out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

I will however accept your invitation to be invited and never come. That sounds like an excellent time. I also enjoy not answering calls, not networking, never leaving the house, and hanging out with my dog.

I always think when we're quiet, we're agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we're just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.

Have you ever heard that quote if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid?” “Yeah…” “Sounds like Amy really likes hanging out in trees.” I laughed a little. “I will never judge you for how you climb a tree, Jacob. And you should know that you are an exceptional fish.

I had to remember that not everyone overthought everything the way I did. Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

I’ll never be that trusting again. I’ll never give myself to someone else with the complete abandon that I did with Nick. […] He was the exception. He was me saying ‘Okay, so Dad left. But this one won’t. I picked right, not all men are like Dad. This one’s going to carry me. All my broken pieces.’ And he didn’t. He did exactly what Mom always warned me that men do. He validated every cautionary tale I grew up hearing.

I needed to not be at work today. I needed to sit around my house without a bra, my hair in a weird bun, watching reruns of Schitt’s Creek. My eyes were still puffy, and I was a soft breeze away from losing it again—and I got my period. I get to bleed for a week without the sweet release of death.

I tell you that my standards are low. The bar has come waaaaay down. At this point I’d settle for a guy simply because he has a penis, more than one towel, and no flags hanging on his walls. I mean, do they actually expect us to have sex with them on a futon in their mom’s basement? Like, actually?” “Yes,” she said flatly. “That is exactly what they expect.” I sat back heavily in my seat. “I’m beginning to think men are not sending us their best people.

What does this one mean?' she whispered. [...] I know all of your quiets. I know when you're alone with me and you're quiet, it's because your brain is still. And when you're in public and you're quiet, it's because your brain is loud. But I don't know this one. What's this one?' I held her gaze. 'This one's you.

It occurred to me that this is what true compatibility must feel like. Easy. Being with Jacob was easy in a way that I never knew existed. […] maybe I’d married a six out of ten on the compatibility scale—which can work with effort. But Jacob was a ten out of ten. A yes/yes. Jacob didn’t take work. Jacob was perfect.

It’s hard to find out that someone you love is fine with just setting your life on fire and walking away.

And we stayed there holding each other, inseparable, immovable, tangled like a tree that had grown into a chain-link fence.

you’re with someone who doesn’t speak your language, you’ll spend a lifetime having to translate your soul? Amy

My eyes were still puffy, and I was a soft breeze away from losing it again—and I got my period. I get to bleed for a week without the sweet release of death.

I do! I need…my retainer!” I said desperately. “I can’t live without it!

Love shows up, Jacob. So show up.

Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

You know, love shows up, Briana. And even if you keep me away from you, my heart will still be where you are. So just let me be where you are.

because any day I’m not with her is just wasted time. And I’ll already never get all the time I want…

Because love shows up. And here I am.

What’d you send her flowers for?’ I smiled. ‘She’s mad at me.’ ‘For what?’ ‘She asked if I’d eat her if she were a gummy bear. I said yes.

Even if you don’t love me back. Even if it never matters to you or means anything or goes anywhere. I love you.

But for me, it was a lifeline. An outstretched hand while I was falling, an umbrella in a downpour. A friendship is a hostile place.

The only problem with anger is that it burns hot and fast. It doesn’t tend to burn long.

And that was the moment. The first time my brain consciously registered what my heart had been telling me for the last few weeks. I wasn't falling in love with her. I already was.

And I could feel it all pressing on me from the inside, like a scream trying to get out.

Sometimes the hardest thing isn't trusting the next person. It's trusting yourself

I got nervous in unfamiliar social settings, so I would say the wrong thing or become withdrawn, so it took time for people to warm up to me.

It felt disrespectful. Like I was violating her just by thinking about it. And I’d been thinking about it a lot. I couldn’t help it.

I’m sorry someone made you feel like it’s hard to love you,” she said.

It was weird to say, but she made me feel alone—the way I felt when I was by myself. Calm and unaffected. Like it was just us here and not a hundred other people.

I know trust is hard for you. So that’s what I’m going to help you with.

And depression lies…

… because when you have people who love you, they hurt along with you.

I wasn't interested in never being home anymore. I liked being home. These days, home was the only place I felt true peace.

I’m never ready for a party. I just come to terms with the fact that I have to go inside.

Sometimes I’d Google a place just to see what I could before going. Figure out what I’d order, what the parking situation would be like.

I think about perfect matches. You know how with an organ donation a perfect match isn't really perfect? There's still a chance of rejection, even if all the stars align. Nothing is ever perfect. There's just matches that have a higher chance of working than others. Maybe you guys were like that. It could have worked, but you'd spend your whole life forcing it.

My anxiety felt like electricity. A low, humming current under my skin, a survival instinct triggered and gnawing at me, telling me to flee. I couldn’t escape it, and I couldn’t calm it down.

She smiled and then scooted over and curled up against me and I got to put an arm around her. She snuggled into me and it was everything. My entire universe condensed to a single place and time.

…I feel my heart twisting around her in a way that is completely out of my control and can never be undone. I can’t put it away and I can’t unknow it and I can’t slow it down. I don’t even want to…

hard. “I stole the microwave plate. And the lightbulb out of the fridge. I took the lid for the blender and the oven mitts and the garage door opener and I untuned his guitar and I tore out the last five pages of the book he was reading. I put red Kool-Aid in the shower head and peeled the labels off all the canned food and I put raw shrimp into the curtain rod on the window next to the bed—stop laughing!

will however accept your invitation to be invited and never come. That sounds like an excellent time. I also enjoy not answering calls, not networking, never leaving the house, and hanging out with my dog.

Briana was sitting so close to me her leg pressed into mine. I had a hand on her knee, and she kept leaning into my arm. I almost forgot I was at my ex’s engagement party. Or that I was at a party at all. Briana did that to me.

I could feel it in everything suddenly. The way he touched me, the energy coming off him, the look in his eyes. And then I realized that I had always felt it. This was his quiet. The silence that I couldn’t decipher. It was me.

I loved him so much. I wanted to die, I loved him so much. I wanted to crawl inside of him and live there. I wanted to spend the rest of my life just being with him. Adoring him. Protecting him. Living in all his quiets. Letting him touch me any way he wanted to, as often as he wanted to. A head on his shoulder in a movie theatre. A kiss before bed. A cuddle in the dark. Growing old and holding his hand. Anything he wanted. Anything he needed. I wanted to be his anything.

But it made me like him so much. And all the stories his family told did too. I wanted to go back in time and hold baby Jacob. Be his friend in high school and tell all his bullies to fuck off. I sort of wanted to tell Jewel to fuck off too…

She’d known I needed the details. I didn’t have to ask her, I didn’t have to explain it to her—or not explain it and just deal with not having it. She understands you, even when you don’t say anything at all… This is what Mom meant. This is what she saw. Emotion swelled inside of me. And then I deflated all over again. Because even though she speaks my language, it didn’t translate into her wanting me back.

What does this one mean?” she whispered. “This one what?” I said softly. She opened her beautiful eyes and looked at me. “This quiet,” she said dreamily. “I know all of your quiets. I know when you’re alone with me and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is still. And when you’re in public and you’re quiet, it’s because your brain is loud. But I don’t know this one. What’s this one?” I held her gaze. “This one’s you.

don’t think anyone had ever written me a letter before. It was shockingly effective. Way better than text or email, like it had a different weight to it or something. There’s something about holding the paper in your hand, seeing the ink on the page, the press of the pen. He made this. It took effort. It was a physical act. He couldn’t erase it if he made a mistake, he had to think about what he was going to say before he said it—or he said exactly what he wanted to and didn’t need to change it.

I didn’t usually watch new shows. I just rewatched the same ones over and over. I liked the familiarity, the predictability. If I rewatched a show, there were never any surprises. No emotional jump scares. I didn’t have to process new feelings or stress over cliffhangers. I knew where it was going and how it would end. Music too. When my anxiety is extra high, new music is too draining to process. I’d lean on old playlists. A lyrical safe space, the comfort of repetition. And my anxiety hadn’t been as high as it was right now in longer than I could remember.

I studied her while she regained her composure. So beautiful. Even crying, she was beautiful. I felt like I should look away from her, but I didn’t even know how. I still felt the hug, even though it was over, and it disabled something inside of me again, just the way she did that first day in Benny’s hospital room. I was rendered frozen and speechless and completely at her mercy, and I had to wonder with a touch of awe and amusement if she had bewitched me. If I was under some spell. Because I’d never felt like this before, this compelled to do something for someone I just met, this drawn to anyone.

All they do is lie and throw off your PH balance. They are a constant reminder that we don’t choose our sexuality, because who in their right mind would choose to be attracted to men.

Did you know that when a wife becomes seriously ill, she is six times more likely to be abandoned by her spouse than a husband is?

Interactions like this one didn’t wear me out. They knew me. They didn’t take it personally if I slipped into silence and just listened.

He read a poem about two very different people being the perfect match because they filled the parts the other one was missing. And then it was time for the vows.

I had no doubt Jacob would be a wonderful daddy. He’d always want our baby. But he probably wouldn’t always want me. And I didn’t want my kid to have to see me crumble into a million pieces when that time came. Watch us separate one day, him packing his bags and moving out the way I’d watched my daddy do once.