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.

If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. You memories will be my most lasting impressions.

It doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn't have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn't have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date. It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit. It just has to be.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

And If only I could, I'd make a deal with God.

There is the sudden. There is the eventual. And in between, there is the living.

I want to know why this is such a part of me. I want to know why this thing that happened to other people has happened so much to me. I keep looking for the lesson.