In a story, you can turn to the front and begin again and everyone lives once more. That doesn't work in real life. And I love my real people the most.

In the end you can't always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.

And it is strange that absence can feel like presence.

I am trapped in glass and I want to break out and breath deep but I´m too afraid that it will hurt.

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

Some things are created to be together.

I realize now how much courage it takes to choose the life you want, whatever that might be.