I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.

I have no idea how he knows when I need him. We can go weeks without speaking, and then, when my blue moods threaten to turn black, he will show up and tell me my moods are azure indigo cerulean cobalt periwinkle and suddenly the blue will not seem so dark, more like the color of a noon-bright sky. He brings the sun.

These teenager looks aren't going to last forever, and that there are much better foundation to build a life upon than how attractive you are.

Love is the higher law.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

I was sixteen and equipped with the appropriate genitalia, so I cleared that hurdle nicely.

Measure the hope of that moment, that feeling. Everything else will be measured against it.