All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with my hands but with my heart.
I’m oxygen and he’s dying to breathe.
Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them.
Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat. That I have one, too.
Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I’m so delirious I actually dare to believe it.
I’ve been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me.
Hope is a pocket of possibility. I’m holding it in my hand.
Time goes on even when we do not.
Sticks and stones keep breaking my bones but these words, these words will kill me.