When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.
Because love, love is never finished. It circles and circles, the memories out of order and not always complete.
That’s how you know you really trust someone, I think; when you don’t have to talk all the time to make sure they still like you or prove that you have interesting stuff to say.
Remember that no matter where I am or what I’m doing I’ve got a special place inside me that’s all for you. It’s been there since the day we met.
Life was mostly made up of things you couldn’t control, full of surprises, and they weren’t always good. Life wasn’t what you made it. You were what life made you.