There is something extraordinary about the first time falling.

Every minute you spend with someone gives them a part of your life and takes part of theirs.

Everyone has something of beauty about them. But loving let's you look, and look, and look again. You notice the back of a hand, the turn of a head, the way of a walk. When you first love, you look blind and you see it all as the glorious, beloved whole, or a beautiful sum of beautiful parts. But when you see the one you love as pieces, as why's, you can love those parts too, and it's a love at once more complicated and more complete.

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

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

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

Do you think you could let someone go if you thought it was best for them?