When someone breaks up with you, their beauty-- which you took such satisfaction in-- suddenly becomes unfair.

The older you get, the wiser you are - this is true. But you also question what use this wisdom is.y

detachment, n. Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it.

I will never have a photograph of her to carry around in my pocket. I will never have a letter in her handwriting, or a scrap-book of everything we've done. I will never share an apartment with her in the city. I will never know if we are listening to the same song at the same time. We will not grow old together. I will not be the person she calls when she's in trouble. She will not be the person I call when I have stories to tell. I will never be able to keep anything she's given to me.

I was starting to think I was making up memories, just to have answers. Our brain does that sometimes. Or at least mine does.

Every day I am someone else. I am myself-I know I am myself-but I am also someone else. It has always been like this.

I've lost track of where friendship ends and falling begins. (this is the foolish refrain of the hopelessly devoted.) there are times I want to kiss you midsentence. undo the not-doing with one gesture.