Whenever I look at me, all i see are things I'd like to change. Whenever Damon looks at me, all he sees is a glorious gift from the universe somewhere in the middle lies the truth.

Six hundred years is an awfully long time, Ever. So long it's impossible for either of us to imagine. Though it is more than enough time to rack up a few dirty skeletons for the old metaphorical closet, right?

This is where we go our seperate ways. Aware of the almost feel of his hand on my arm when he pulls me back to him and says, "Yes." I look at him, unsure of what he's saying yes to. "The questions you asked earlier, about wanting to settle down, start a family, see my family? Yes. Yes to all of it." I try to swallow but can't, try to speak but the words just won't come. His hands sliding around me, grasping me to him, he lets go of the vial, allows it to fall, to crash to the ground. The sparkling green liquid seeping out all around as he says, "But mostly yes to you.

Remember when you picked me up like a frisbee and tossed me across you yard?

Whenever I look at me, all I see are things I'd like to change.

Fear separates--makes us feel alone--disconnected--while love--love does just the opposite--it unites. {shadowland}

Ever, if I’ve learned nothing else in my six hundred years of living, it’s that people hate change almost as much as they hate for their beliefs to be challenged.