Best 29 quotes of Holly Bourne on MyQuotes

All I'm saying is, love changes over time. No person is ever perfect for another person

Almost there..." I said, like I was taking my child to Disneyland.

Another round later and I was undeniably drunk. I could feel my head swimming and was yelling "INK INK THAT'S THE NOISE A SQUID MAKES", while laughing hysterically at myself.

Bad stuff happens, people are mean, there are no steps you can take that ensure the world leaves you alone. All you can do is try not to be one of those people who contributes to the bad.

Because now people use the phrase OCD to describe minor personality quirks. "Oooh, I like my pens in a line, I'm so OCD." NO YOU'RE FUCKING NOT. "Oh my God, I was so nervous about that presentation, I literally had a panic attack." NO YOU FUCKING DIDN'T. "I'm so hormonal today. I just feel totally bipolar." SHUT UP, YOU IGNORANT BUMFACE.

Because trying to use logic to explain anxiety is like using a banana to open a locked safe.

Being a woman, in this world, ultimately makes you crazy.

Everyone's always scared for someone else's generation

Everyone's on the cliff edge of normal. Everyone finds life an utter nightmare sometimes, and there's no 'normal' way of dealing with it... There is no normal, Evelyn.

I didn't really have any sharable anecdotes. That's the thing about anxiety - it limits your experiences so the only stories you have to tell are the "I went mad" ones.

It was like I'd climbed Everest, had the summit in my sight, the flag in my hand, all ready to pierce it into the top of the mountain and say, "Whoopdedoo, I made it," and then an avalanche from out of nowhere swept me right back to the bottom of the mountain again. Was it worth bothering to try and climb it again? I was exhausted. I'd already climbed it. I didn't want to...but, then, what other choice was there?

It would've been the perfect time to tell her. To tell anyone. To say, 'I'm drowning and I need someone, anyone, to be my life raft.' To say, 'I thought it had gone, and it hasn't and I'm so scared by what that means.' To say, 'I just want to be normal, why won't my head let me be normal?

I've never seen anyone get so excited by breakfast before." "Are you serious? It's the most important meal of the day. Sometimes, at bedtime, I plan what I'm going to make for breakfast and then get so excited I can't sleep.

I wanted to grab his mum's face and yell, “I’m not a horrible person, I’m not. But I’m broken too and I’ve never been on the receiving end of this behaviour before and I can’t handle it and I have to look after me first, before anyone else.

I wanted to grab his mum's face and yell, “I’m not a horrible person, I’m not. But I’m broken too and I’ve never been on the recovering end of this behaviour before and I can’t handle it and I have to look after me first, before anyone else.

Love isn't just a feeling. Love is a choice too. And you may not be able to help your feelings, but you are responsible for the choices you make about what to do with them.

Maybe all you needed in life was the belief you could change things. Somehow. Some way.

Mental illnesses grab you by the leg, screaming, and chow you down whole.They make you selfish. They make you irrational. They make you irrational. They make you self-absorbed. They make you needy. They make you cancel plans last minute. They make you not very fun to spend time with. They make you exhausting to be near.

No one ever tells you how much a heartbreak physically hurts. How it literally feels like you've been kicked down the stairs. How you can't swallow. How every muscle aches. How your heart lurches inside you like it's been poisoned. Nobody tells you that.

Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I yelped. Harry was rubbing his jaw. "What was that?" My keys were in my fingers, my back was to him. I fumbled with the lock. I had to get out of here. Oh my God, I'd tried to kiss him and ended up headbutting him. Like a freaking.. WWE wrestler. "I don't know what happend. I'm sorry. I have to go. Thanks for... everything...sorry." The door opend. I couldn't get through it quickly enough. What was wrong with me? Seriously, what was I doing? I HEADBUTTED HIM.

Soon my sobs dulled to a whimper. Soon my breathing came back. Soon I was able to get off the carpet. Soon I'd meet my friends for college and pretend it hadn't happened.

The true test of life isn't how you cope when everything is going in your favour; it's how you deal with things that could destroy you, if you let them.

Though the world was hazy, all I could think about was love. And how I'd never had it. How I would never understand what it felt like to fall asleep knowing another person was thinking of you. I would never have someone touch the small of my back as they steered me through a crowd. I would never know the contour of someone's face off-by-heart, and yet not be bored with it. And, as I sank to the grey, chewing-gum stained carpet, all I could think was how sad that was.

Time can be strange sometimes. It can leave imprints in particular places, leaving ghosts of memories trapped.

Trauma. It doesn't eke itself out over time. It doesn't split itself manageably into bite-sized chunks and distribute itself equally throughout your life. Trauma is all or nothing. A tsunami wave of destruction. A tornado of unimaginable awfulness that whooshes into your life - just for one key moment - and wreaks such havoc that, in just an instant, your whole world will never be the same again.

Were these my options? Easy lay or mental? A lie, or alone? Were these the only options boys gave you? Was it mental to want someone to love you? Was it mental to want to be courted before a guy but an actual piece of his body inside your body? Was it mental to want a message after you’d kissed someone? Was it mental to want the most normal thing in the world- a relationship? One that didn’t make your heart feel full of bogeys?

Who cares what a writer looks like as long as their words are beautiful?

Writing's much more romantic when its pen and ink and paper. It's... More timeless. and worthwhile. Think about it. There are so many words gushing out into the universe these days. All digitally. All in Comic Sans or Times New Roman. Silly Websites. Stupid news stories digitally uploaded to a 24-hour channel. Where's all this writing going? Who's keeping a note of it all? Who's in charge of deciding what's worthwhile and what isn't? But back then... Back then, if someone wanted to write something they had to buy paper. Buy it! And ink. And a pen. And they couldn't waste too many sheets cos it was expensive. So when people wrote, they wrote because it was worthwhile... not just because they had some half-baked idea and they wanted to pointlessly prove their existence by sharing it on some bloody social networking site.

Yes, well, rein it in, Prom King. British people have been successfully repressing our emotions since before your country was even a thing.