But the little things are what make up life

You can't put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren't.

If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.

But the little things are what make up life

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

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