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

I'm just a butterfly, a mourning cloak, sealed inside a cocoon with blnd eyes and stiky wings. And suddenly I wonder if the cocoons sometimes do not open, if the butterfly inside is ever simply not strong enough to break through.

So much of life is in the smallness of moments...but they are harder to mark. So we need the grander celebrations and occasions. People like to feel significant.

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

We can either try to change everything or just make the most of whatever time we have.

Why are some things easier to write than say?

I want to reach out and grab his hand and hold it to me, right over my heart, right where it aches the most. I don't know if doing that would heal me or make my heart break entirely, but either way this constant hungry waiting would be over.