Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.

I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.

In my dream I know I am falling. But there is no up or down, no walls or sides or ceilings, just the sensation of cold and darkness everywhere. I am so scared I could scream. But when I open my mouth, nothing happens. And I wonder if you fall forever and never touch down, is it really still falling? I think I will fall forever.

Hope keeps you alive.

Amor deliria nervosa isn't a disease of love. It's a disease of selfishness.

He was still in love with you, anyway.

He is my world and my world is him and without him there is no world.