I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

We hold hands as we walk through town. If anybody notices, nobody cares. I know we all like to think of the heart as the center of the body but at this moment, every conscious part of me is in the hand that he holds. It is through that hand, that feeling, that I experience everything else.

he is both the source of my happiness and the one i want to share it with.

Sometimes the space between knowing what to do and actually doing it is a very short walk. Other times it is an impossible expanse.

He never wears a watch (his own rebellion against time, against watching).

I don’t like it when you use my shampoo, because then your hair smells like me, not you.

The unwarranted devotion. Putting up with the fear of being with the wrong person because you can't deal with the fear of being alone. The hope tinged with doubt, and the doubt tinged with hope. Every time I see these feelings in someone else's face, it weighs me down.