I tried to will them with my super mental powers so he’d put them around my waist, but apparently I had no super mental powers.

Two people unable to cry finally cry together and in the world ended today, we would be fulfilled.

I’m not a follower. I never have been. But I’ll definitely become someone I’m not for a few hours if it’ll make me blend in rather than make me a blatant eye sore and draw attention.

Our story is over, yes, but our journey isn't, because we'll always live on the edge until the day we die.

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.

I want to do everything with you

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