“Your love left me simultaneously whole and in pieces.”

I can’t believe it, I’m falling apart. I recognize the way my feelings eat me from inside out.

And what am I supposed to do with all this residue?

I live in quiet confusion, in calm chaos, and in gentle waves of passion.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel so much.

My thoughts are like whiskey – one shot and I’m left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Don’t let this dissipate. Don’t let this evaporate into thin air. Don’t let this go.

Listen to the silence it will speak to you in a way that no amount of chaos and noise ever could.

I live in spaces between contradictions for I am a paradox with the depth of an ocean.

I love you so much that it hurts and that’s the problem I love you so much that it hurts.

Time passes. But pieces of my heart remain in the moments of the past that ignited the colors of my soul.

I am laden with sorrow. But always hopeful of tomorrow.

It will never be like the way it always was.

Don’t you get it? I’d live and die for you. You have my heart locked in prison. And yet you are my greatest source of freedom.

Misery loves company, perhaps I’m misery myself, wishing for someone to sit beside me and distract me from myself.

The adult heart beats differently.

Quiet, that’s how I go when there’s a lot to say.

I honestly didn’t think miracles could ever come from my broken pieces, and I was disabled in fear that my dreams would always remain as dreams. Don’t give up on you. Don’t give up on God. Don’t give up on love.

You don’t know what God can do with your broken pieces until you give God your broken pieces.

Unless a piece really said something, I had no interest in it. I have got to know that I have served some purpose here.

I just hope people see that if God can do something beautiful with my broken pieces, then God truly has a plan for each and everyone of us.

To be a novelist, all I need is a pen and a piece of paper.

O, you have torn my life all to pieces… made me be what I prayed you in pity not to make me be again!

You don’t want to raise a kid in a culture where the kid who asks the most questions is annoying. You want a culture where the kid who asks the most questions gets awards and gets another piece of cake.

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.