It was rather awkward, insofar as we were both teetering between the possibility of something and the possibility of nothing.

There has to be a moment at the beginning where you wonder whether you’re in love with the person or in love with the feeling of love itself. If the moment doesn’t pass, that’s it—you’re done. And if the moment does pass, it never goes that far. It stands in the distance, ready for whenever you want it back. Sometimes it’s even there when you thought you were searching for something else, like an escape route, or your lovers’ face.

It's only a game if there is an absence of meaning. And we've already gone too far for that.

It's like, you know how sometimes you see a really sexy baby? Wait.

It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.

Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.

That's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through the silent parts.