One more thing: don’t feel bad for not telling me that you loved me. You didn’t need to say it. I knew all along that you did.

You’re sleeping with an assassin, running for your life every single day from men who want to kill you and you’re convinced you’re going to die of discomfort.

You were the missing piece of my soul, the breath in my lungs, and the blood in my veins.

What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?

The moment you tell someone else is the moment you become a whiner and the world’s smallest violin starts to play. The truth is, we all have problems; we all go through hardships and pain, and my pain is paradise compared to a lot of people’s and I really have no right to whine at all.

I could die in this bed with him right now, wrapped in his arms and I would never know that I had died.

Live in the moment, where everything is just right, take your time and limit your bad memories and you'll get wherever it is you're going a lot faster and with less bumps in the way.