The first boy I fell in love with didn’t know I loved him, but he managed to break my heart anyway.
The boy I loved didn’t know I existed. Then again, he was obsessed with Camus, so he didn’t know if any of us existed.
Every last souvenir of the love we had [was in that box], the prizes and debris of this relationship, like the glitter in the gutter after the parade has passed, all the everything and whatnot kicked to the curb.
Daniel Handler and Maira Kalman, Why We Broke Up