“Perhaps the saddest of all are those who living waiting for someone they’re not sure exists.”

My tongue is sour from the hunger of missing you.

I have never known anything more quietly loud than my anxiety.

Losing you was the becoming of myself.

Despite knowing they won’t be here for long they still choose to live their brightest lives- sunflowers.

Fall in love with your solitude.

On the last day of love, my heart cracked inside my body.

We need more love not from men but from ourselves and each other.

Trying to convince myself I am allowed to take up space is like writing with my left hand when I was born to use my right.

You do not just wake up and become the butterfly -Growth is a process.

I am hopelessly a lover and a dreamer and that will be the death of me.

There is a difference between someone telling you they love you and them actually loving you.

And here you are living despite it all.

You were so afraid of my voice I decided to be afraid of it too.

How is it so easy for you to be kind to people? he asked. Milk and honey dripped from my lips as I answered cause people have not been kind to me.

You are the faint line between faith and blindly waiting – letter to my future lover.

Why is it that when the story ends we begin to feel all of it?