I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.

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

It's not knowing how to write that makes you interesting, it's what you write.

Why are some things easier to write than say?

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

If you let hope inside, it takes you over. It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow. Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together. Holds you up until you don't know how to live without it anymore. To pull it out of you would kill you entirely.

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