Red is the first color of spring. It's the real color of rebirth. Of beginning.

Some things are created to be together.

Is falling in love with someone's story the same thing as falling in love with the person himself?

Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle-it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act if self-preservation. It's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?

Once you want something, everything changes.

Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?

There is ebb and flow. Leaving and coming. Flight and fall. Sing and silent. Reaching and reached.