It is one thing to make a choice and it is another thing to never have the chance.

Everything I dream is something simple and plain and everyday. That’s how I know they are dreams. Because the simple and plain and everyday things are the ones that we can never have

Love changes what is probable and makes unlikely things possible

And it is strange that absence can feel like presence.

Theres nothing like reading about a world that feels dead to throw your own beautiful, colorful life into sharp relief.

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

Why are some things easier to write than say?