“If I feel everything, is that a gift or a burden?”

If people are their deepest thoughts and darkest secrets, I’m convinced that no one really knows anybody.

I love you, selflessly. From afar, through tears, and in my loneliness.

They might even love you back but that doesn’t mean that you’re meant to be together.

If I wasn’t worthy of explanation, you aren’t worth being remembered.

I have touched you in dreams, wishing to kiss you on the other side of it.

Note to self: stop being so soft, remember what he did and move along.

His laugh sounds an awful lot like my happiness.

Drank about you last night, hungover you this morning.

I’m a romantic and that’s the tragedy.

If only you could hold my heart and understand what you left behind.

If only I could kiss you as often as I think about it.

I must have loved you before, in another life, beyond a dream, across centuries.

I just want to be held without having to explain myself.

Imagine how you’ll love when healed.

It breaks my heart that some people are only kind when there is something in it for them. Everything is a business now, including human decency.

Nobody warns you about the fact that you have to go to war if you want to know peace.