That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them you cared. And he just didn't. Not enough.

Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer

I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to-it's dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.

There are moments in life that you wish with all your heart you could take back. Like, just erase from existence. Like, if you could, you'd erase yourself right out of existence too, just to make that moment not exist.

In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.

Looking on the bright side of life never killed anybody.

It feels strange to have spent much time wishing for something, for someone and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.