he might die for her, but living for her would be quite different.

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants.

For years I wanted to be older, and now I am.

The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

Social media is called social media for a reason. It lends itself to sharing rather than horn-tooting.

And yet it disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional.

I suppose these deadlines we set for ourselves are really a way of saying we appreciate time, and want to use all of it.