I want to write my life. I want to be able to write my life. You are a second away from saying it. You have no idea how much I love you.
What i want is for what i want to actually matter.
There is no word for our kind of friendship. Two people who don’t see each other a lot, but can make each other effortlessly happy.
I’m a firm believer that every person, young or old, has at least one good story to tell.
Life tells you to take the elevator, but love tells you to take the stairs.
When the shock wears off, you always hope there’s understanding underneath.
Knowledge is the only thing I take with me when I go.
I want you to be honest with me. Even if it hurts. Although I would prefer for it not to hurt.
We pencil-sketch our previous life so we can contrast it to the technicolor of the moment.
This is as much a part of my story as anything else. Friendship is love as much as any romance.
I can’t pretend to know what love is. It just is.
To get something you must give something away. To hold something you must give something away. To love something you must give something away.
Because what’s the point of something virtual if it doesn’t end up being real?
It’s almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.
Sometimes memory tricks you. Sometimes beauty is best when it’s distant.
The most understandable thing in the world should be how minutes lead to hours, how hours lead to days, how days can make a year. And yet, this neat progression can still be surprising.
I want to kiss her without counting the seconds. I want to hold her so long that I get to know her skin. I want, I want, I want.
I am here because of love.
Every two people cause and intersection. Every person alters the world.
Maybe your history just repeats and repeats until it batters you enough to snap the seams that hold you together.