beautiful little fool

I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man’s child. She could fade and wither - I didn’t care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.

—Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov. (via ramirezdahmerbundy)

I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I wish you got butterflies when we kiss like I do. I wish just seeing me made you happy like it used to. But you don’t. And it doesn’t. Most of all I wish I knew how to love you less.

But I don’t.