The sun has just risen, weak and watery-looking, like it had just spilled itself over the horizon and is too lazy to clean itself up.

I’ve been trying so hard not to think his name, not to even breathe the idea of him

At the same time I know that it’s not really their fault, at least not completely. I did my part too. I did it on a hundred different days and in a thousand different ways, and I know it. But this makes the anger worse, not better.

There's that confidence again, that semi-infuriating easiness of his, the tilt of his head and the smile. but today it's not infuriating. Today I like it, feel like it's somehow rubbing off on me, like if I was around him enough I would never feel awkward or frightened or insecure.

The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.

No one can tell us no. No one can make us stop. We have picked each other and the rest of the world can go to hell.

I wonder whether she was sorry for leaving us behind.