You can't finish the things you weren't supposed to start.

We loved each other in the same difficult, unusable way where you took turns doing it, instead of ever managing to do it at the same time.

It's harder to appreciate what you don't have to look hard to find.

People screw up, you know. You shouldn't hold it against them. You shouldn't expect everyone to know everything you're thinking about or not getting from them. It doesn't mean they don't love you. They just screwed up.

Why could we say more to each other when it counted less?

Why does it take fear to move you? Why does it take chaos to make us understand exactly what we need to do?

I'm not sure we get to choose when or where we find what we're looking for.