It feels like a punch. Tears fill my eyes, and I wonder how I could be upset over losing something I never had.

What makes you walk past thirty-thousand people without a second glance, and then you look at the thirty-thousandth-and-first person and know you'll never take your eyes off her again?

There are some things we do because we convince ourselves it would be better for everyone involved. We tell ourselves that it's the right thing to do, the altruistic thing to do. It's far easier than telling ourselves the truth.

Everyone still deserves to have their say.

When you want something bad, you'll tell yourself a thousand lies.

Everyone deserves a happy ending.

It turns out that sharing the past with someone is different from reliving it when you’re alone. It feels less like a wound, more like a poultice.