writed by David Levithan.

• adamant
  • These kinds of fights can never be won — even if you’re the victor, you’ve hurt the other person, and there has to be some loss associated with that. We looked it up, of course, and even though you conceded I was right, you still acted like it was a special occasion. I thought about leaving you then. Just for a split second, I was out the door.
• abyss
  • There are times when I doubt everything. When I regret everything you’ve taken from me, everything I’ve given you, and the waste of all the time I’ve spent on us.
• arrears, n.
  • My faithfulness was as unthinking as your lapse. Of all the things I thought would go wrong, I never thought it would be that. “It was a mistake,” you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.
• blemish, n.
  • This brief transcript of moments, written on the body, is so deeply satisfying to read.
• brash, adj.
  • But I loved the notion that the night was mine to spend, and I immediately decided to spend it on you.
• cajole, v.
  • What did it matter to me? Did I think that by making you rational about one thing, I could make you rational about everything? Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to save you from your fears.
• caveat, n.
  • “I will be the one to leave you” — you whispered it to me as a warning. Fifth date? Sixth date? I was sure in my heart that you were wrong. I was sure I’d be the one to kill it. But I kept that belief to myself.
• clandestine, adj.
  • I want to sequester this one part of me from everyone else. I want the act to be a secret, even if the words can only hold themselves secret for so long.
• contiguous, adj.
  • And one day I got it in my head that California and Nevada were in love.
• corrode, v.
  • I spent all this time building a relationship. Then one night I left the window open, and it started to rust.
• covet, v.
  • This is a difference between us: you desire what other people have, while I desire the things I used to have, or think I might have one day. I never know what you really want, if I can give it to you, or if I’m already too late.
• daunting, adj.
  • Really, we should use this more as a verb. You daunted me, and I daunted you. Or would it be that I was daunted by you, and you were daunted by me? That sounds better. It daunted me that you were so beautiful, that you were so at ease in social situations, as if every room was heliotropic, with you at the center. And I guess it daunted you that I had so many more friends than you, that I could put my words together like this, on paper, and could sometimes conjure a certain sense out of things. The key is to never recognize these imbalances. To not let the dauntingness daunt us.
• deadlock, n.
  • Even if neither of us got what we wanted, we found freedom in the third choices.
• detachment, n.
  • But I always glance back at you.
• doldrums, n.
  • The proper verb for depression is sink.
• elegy, n.
  • We have fallen through the surface of want and are deep in the trenches of need.
• flux, n.
  • The natural state. Our moods change. Our lives change. Our feelings for each other change. Our bearings change. The song changes. The air changes. The temperature of the shower changes. Accept this. We must accept this.
• gingerly, adj.
  • You leave the phone on beside you as you fall asleep. I sit in my bed and listen to your breathing, until I know you are safe, until I know you no longer need me for the night.
• healthy, adj
  • Maybe I’m better like this. Maybe I could live my life in my own world, and then simply leave it when it’s time to go.
• I, n.
  • Me without anyone else.
• ineffable, adj.
  • Trying to write about love is ultimately like trying to have a dictionary represent life. No matter how many words there are, there will never be enough.
• jaded, adj.
  • In the end, we both want the right thing to happen, the right person to win, the right idea to prevail. We have no faith that it will, but still we want it. Neither of us has given up on anything.
• jerk, v.
  • “This has to stop,” I say. “You have to stop hurting me. I can’t take it. I really can’t take it.” “I know you can’t take it,” you say. “But is that really my fault?” I try to convince myself that it’s the alcohol talking. But alcohol can’t talk. It just sits there. It can’t even get itself out of the bottle. “It is your fault,” I tell you. But you’ve already left the room.
• love, n.
  • I’m not going to even try.
• lover, n.
  • I have never wanted a lover, but I have always wanted to love, and to be loved. There is no word for the recipient of the love. There is only a word for the giver. There is the assumption that lovers come in pairs. When I say, Be my lover, I don’t mean, Let’s have an affair. I don’t mean, Sleep with me. I don’t mean, Be my secret. I want us to go back down to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.
• makeshift, adj.
  • Things rarely get fixed the way they need to be.
• only, adj.
  • That’s the dilemma, isn’t it? When you’re single, there’s the sadness and joy of only me. And when you’re paired, there’s the sadness and joy of only you.
• recant, v.
  • I said you were a genius, because I was being sarcastic and I should have just said you’d hurt my feelings. I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the “I love you”s, because it feels safer that way.
• reservation, n.
  • There are times when I worry that I’ve already lost myself. That is, that my self is so inseparable from being with you that if we were to separate, I would no longer be. I save this thought for when I feel the darkest discontent. I never meant to depend so much on someone else.
• sartorial, adj.
  • “I loved those slippers,” I said. “I assure you,” you said, “they did not love you back.”
• stanchion, n.
  • I don’t want to be the strong one, but I don’t want to be the weak one, either. Why does it feel like it’s always one or the other? When we embrace, one of us is always holding the other a little tighter.
• tableau, n.
  • That lasting things do, in fact, last.
• tenet, n.
  • At the end of the French movie, the lover sings, “Love me less, but love me for a long time.”
• traverse, v.
  • You started to cry, and I quickly said, “No — I mean this part is over. We have to get to the next part.” And you said, “I’m not sure we can.” Without even having to think about it, I replied, “Of course we can.” “How can you be so sure?” you asked. And I said, “I’m sure. Isn’t that enough?”
• wane, v.
  • The week before our first anniversary, I thought, I can’t do this anymore. I was shopping with Joanna, shopping for you, and suddenly I couldn’t stay in the store. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her I had to end it. She was surprised, and asked me why I thought so. I told her it wasn’t a thought, more a feeling, like I couldn’t breathe and knew I had to get some air. It was a survival instinct, I told her. She said it was time for dinner. Then she sat me down and told me not to worry. She said moments like this were like waking up in the middle of the night: You’re scared, you’re disoriented, and you’re completely convinced you’re right. But then you stay awake a little longer and you realize things aren’t as fearful as they seem. “You’re breathing,” she said. We sat there. I breathed.