For peace to take hold, one person must first stop fighting.
With my partner beside me, I fear nothing, not even death.
My skill didn't lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.
After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.
He has to take me as I am, broken bits and all.
Yet sometimes being a friend meant letting people do things that hurt, like putting distance between you, just because it made them happy.