it's gonna hurt because it matters.

It's the secret smile you get from knowing that, somewhere, there is someone who is yours. Not in the sense that you own her or control her. She is yours because you can say anything to her, whenever you need to. And she can do the same, whenever she needs to.

We always see our worst selves. Our most vulnerable selves. We need someone else to get close enough to tell us we’re wrong. Someone we trust.

How sad it must be for you to be nothing more than a hollow statue, to have your tomb preserved and your story forgotten.

I am not dangerous. Only the stories are dangerous. Only the fictions we create, especially when they become expectations.

I should talk to him I know I should talk to him. But I do not talk to him. I watch after him from afar and love him.

And as we drift into sleep, I feel something I’ve never felt before. A closeness that isn’t merely physical. A connection that defies the fact that we’ve only just met. A sensation that can only come from the most euphoric of feelings: belonging.