It’s my future and my life and I can’t make myself live the way someone else wants me to.

When we pull away, he rests his hand on my thigh pressed next to his and we ride like that for a long time; the only time he moves his hand is to take better control of a sharp curve or to adjust the music, but he always puts it right back. And I always want him to.

Maybe you should get rid of me,” I whisper onto his lips. “Never,” he says, kissing me once softly. “You’re mine for as long as you breathe.

He never leaves my side. And I know he never will.

I wonder if the ocean smells different on the other side of the world.

You’re the world to me,” I whisper onto her lips. “I hope you never forget that.” “I’ll never forget,” she whispers back.. “But if I ever do, for whatever reason, I hope you’ll always find a way to remind me.” ...“Always.

I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, but I do know that I want to do whatever it is and get there soon.