She is my first and only love. Most people know that their first love will not be their only love. But for me, she is both.

Everyone tried with me. And everytime, it felt like the whole point of life was to see if trying was ever enough.

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.

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

Some days are like this. And the only way to get through them is to remember that they are only one day, and that every day ends.

The key is to never recognize these imbalances. To not let the dauntingness daunt us.

I barely notice colors unless I taste them. Not the yellows or the greens. I taste the deeper blues. The darker reds.