Our meeting, touching, accidentally connecting immediately, interwoven hand-in-hand, heart-to-heart.

This time when we kiss, I feel it in the pit of my stomach, I feel it in my heart. And I realize love isn't about sex. It's about connection.

Happiness, you see, its just an illusion of Fate, a heavenly sleight of hand designed to make you believe in fairy tales. But there's no happily ever after. You'll only find happy endings in books. Some books.

Memory is a tenuous thing, like a rainbow's end or a camera with a failing lens.

Yeah, I know getting high isn't so smart. Ask me if I care.

Grandma once told me it's easy to overthink love, to dissect it and question it until it is no more.

...what good would it do to shutter your windows, never dream of rainbows or find hope in promises? Why choose to walk away rather than hold your ground and fight for love?