We could call you an ambisexual. A duosexual. A—” “Do I really have to find a word for it?” Kyle interrupts. “Can’t it just be what it is?” “Of course,” I say, even though in the bigger world I’m not so sure. The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own. We pause for a moment. I wonder if that’s all—if he just needed to say the truth and have it heard. But then Kyle looks at me with unsure eyes and says, “You see, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” “Nobody does,” I assure him.

I guess it's a choice we make," she said. "What's a choice?" I asked. And she said, "How much of the world we let in.

Neophyte, n. There are millions upon millions of people who have been through this before-- why is it that no one can give my good advice?

I'm not good at relationships I always manage to find the flaws sometimes in others but mostly my own. I foretell the ending then go and create the cause save myself and end up alone

Honestly, I'm just trying to live day to day

We do not start as dust. We do not end as dust. We make more than dust. That's all we ask of you. Make more than dust.

The assumption of the word reunion is that, once you're together again, you are united. Two as one. Pulling close to someone is only a temporary symbol. It's the way you breathe with each other that's the telltale sign.