If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.

I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.

She is everything. And if she is everything, maybe that's answer enough.

One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.

Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.