We are not defined by our things. It´s not the clothes that we wear, the cars that we drive, the art we acquire- It´s not where we live- but how we live that defines us. It´s our actions that are remembered long after we are gone.

Aw, now look at that, you're being sarcastic, aren't you?

My feelings for you are not conditional. I don't judge you. I don't lose patience with you. I don't punish you. I just love you. That's all. Pure and simple.

No: What the heck happened? Or: Why did you go from nearly kissing me to tossing me across your yard and into the patio furniture?

Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip code-those are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.

Nothing can rival the incredible rush the act of creation brings. Of crafting something you know is destined to be great for all time.

So you’ve made a friend. How sad for them.