How many people have gotten older and forgotten about the things they hoped for and dreamed about when they were young? Or given up without ever taking a chance, or settled in life because it's easier, or they're scared, or whatever other excuses? How many people need a reminder of who they once were?

It seems to me that the experiences that stay with you, the things you'll always remember, aren't the ones you can force, or go looking for. I've always thought of those things as the ones that somehow find you.

We're all more than the person we show to everyone else.

That's the best part. The how.

I read once that water is a symbol for emotions. And for a while now I've thought maybe my mother drowned in both.

I’ve got this tiny pang of regret when I think of how much I have probably missed out on in the last few years because I was too scared to take a risk, or too shy to speak up, or too worried to be bold.

That’s what seems the most sad to me—that neither of them even think there’s a possibility they can be together.